Bound and Gagged
by magdalena2122
Summary: 6th year, Hermione and Draco enter into a strange relationship, using and abusing each other as a means to cope with the mounting tension of the upcoming war. Gradually it morphs, all the while never losing its strangeness. HBP FULLY COMPLIANT.
1. And So It Began

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

_Author's Note: This story was inspired by the song "Helena" by the Misfits. I'm not posting the lyrics here, since fanfiction is already dancing on the line of copyright infringement. However, if you're not familiar with the song, check it out. Also, future chapters will be longer than this, so bear with me… And with no further ado, I present to you _Bound and Gagged.

**Prologue ****– And So It Began**

He often daydreamed of dismembering the stupid Mudblood bitch. He hated her with an unbridled passion.

He hated the way her arm would wave frantically in the air every time one of their professors would ask a question. He wanted to rip that arm right out of its over-eager socket.

He hated the smile of genuine happiness that would grace her features whenever she conversed with Scar-head and the Weasel. He wanted to smack that look of contentment off her face and make her mouth bleed.

He hated her appalling dirty blood. He wanted to draw a knife across her filthy, heaving chest. He wanted to watch her repulsive blood seep out of the incision and turn her white oxford red.

He hated the swirling motion her uniform skirt made when she walked. He wanted to rip it off her and fuck her until she screamed – with agony or with pleasure, he didn't really care which.

He hated that he had every advantage imaginable – piles of galleons, aristocratic good looks and poise, a keen and cunning mind, along with a Pureblood family who had overwhelming influence over the wizarding community – and yet, he was out of his mind with misery. He hated that the frizzy-headed cunt came from such a despicable background, and yet she seemed so satisfied with her goody-goody life.

Most of all, he hated the inexplicable pull he felt toward her. He hated that she consumed his every waking thought, and he hated that she didn't even notice him. How could she not want to throw herself at his feet? How could she not want to submit herself to do his bidding? Why didn't her eyes cloud over with fear and desire when she looked at him? He was Draco bloody Malfoy, for fuck's sake!

He knew he was an absolute prick to her every chance he got. He didn't understand why she didn't succumb to him anyway. He wanted to lock her up and keep her filthy, intoxicatingly beautiful body hidden away where only he could find it. Where he could stare at her sensual mouth and forbidden curves for as long as he wanted. Where he could carry out all of the fantasies he had ever had concerning her.

But he knew that she hated him with an unbridled passion in return.

He knew that bound and gagged was the only way she would ever be his.

If only he knew that the line separating hate from love was a tricky, elusive one.

And so it began.


	2. I Know Just What to Do

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 1 – I Know Just What to Do**

Draco Malfoy sat in the Great Hall, enjoying the start-of-term feast, and periodically sneaking glances over at the Gryffindor table. Potter still hadn't arrived. He smiled maliciously to himself, remembering the glorious sight of his bloody footprint marring Potter's face. Perhaps he was still curled up on the floor of the Hogwarts Express, already on his way back to London. Draco's smile faltered, however, when he saw the sickened look of worry on the Mudblood's face.

Her head was tilted in quiet conversation with the Weasel. She looked panic-stricken by the absence of Saint Potter. Draco scowled. Suddenly, the room was filled with whispered conversation. Draco focused his eyes on the figure that was rapidly approaching the Gryffindor table. It appeared that the Chosen One had managed to wriggle out of yet another sticky situation. _How the fuck did he pull that one off?_ Draco wondered. _He was stunned, __and__ under that Invisibility Cloak! Stupid Gryffindor asshole…_

Potter took a seat between the frizzy-haired bitch and the freckled freak. Disgusted, Draco watched as Granger fawned over Potter, using her wand to siphon the blood off of his face. Hate welled up in Draco's gut as he thought about all of the times his own father had made him bleed, and he was left to tend to his wounds on his own.

Draco had learned at a young age not to cross his father. When he did, he typically found himself nursing wounds that the house-elves had to heal with their magic. Not even his own mother would help him, though he didn't blame her. If she had tried to comfort him, Lucius would have punished her as well.

With Lucius safely locked away in Azkaban since the end of last term, Draco had grown closer to his mother. Their relationship was very precarious, but it was a relationship nonetheless. They'd had a lovely summer, at least until Lord Voldemort had decided to punish Lucius by giving Draco an assignment that was ludicrous both because it was damn near impossible, and because Draco didn't have any desire to become a Death Eater.

Sure, he thought he was better than Muggles. He was a wizard. He could use magic. Obviously having magic was better than not having magic. But he could give two shits whether they were all killed off, or if they skipped happily through meadows. Frankly, he thought that the Dark Lord was a power-hungry lunatic. Not that Draco could blame him, after all, power was a desirable thing to wield. But Voldemort was really a bit excessive about the whole thing. Not to mention the fact that he was a fucking half-blood, which really didn't fit in with his doctrine.

Even so, Draco had been coerced into taking the Dark Mark over the summer and accepting the task that the Dark Lord had given him. He wasn't daft. He knew that his mother would be killed if he refused, even if it wasn't expressed in so many words. He knew that he would be killed if he refused Lord Voldemort. But he also knew that he was sure to be killed trying to complete the bloody mission. Either way he was dead, probably along with his mother. And he was fucking mad about it.

His gaze refocused on the Gryffindor table. At that moment, he decided to get revenge. Revenge on his father, for treating him as yet another possession to be used and discarded as he saw fit. Revenge on the Dark Lord, for being a hypocritical bigot, and using him as a pawn in his twisted games. Revenge on the saintly Gryffindor heroes, for being so damn perfect. And lastly, revenge on himself, for being too weak to claim his life as his own.

Zeroing in on the mass of bushy brown hair, he came to a conclusion. The key to everything was the Mudblood. He would fuck Granger. It was perfect; though he could never wave it in front of anybody's face, he knew the anger it would invoke in all of the aforementioned if they did ever find out.

_How's that for two birds with one stone?_ He thought as his face twisted into its usual smirk.

Satisfied, he turned to his housemates and began retelling the story of how he kicked the Boy-Who-Sucked in the face.

XXXXX

The next morning, Draco spent every spare moment of Defense Against the Dark Arts observing Granger and her interactions with the wonder twins. Yes, she was indeed the key to it all.

He began formulating a plan. It was clear that her relationship with her little boyfriends was becoming strained. The look of irritation that she seemed to reserve especially for Weasley did not go unnoticed by Draco. Things between the Mudblood and Potter appeared a bit sturdier, however Draco was sure that it wasn't always as peachy as it looked from the outside. He would simply have to strike at a moment when the Mudblood's relationships were particularly weak.

He didn't realize just how soon he would have the opportunity.


	3. Draped and Displayed

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 2 – Draped and Displayed**

Hermione was beginning to become irritated with her companions. Harry and Ron were her best friends, and she loved them dearly, but… She was always bickering with Ron, and it was starting to get old. She knew that Harry did his best to remain impartial during these altercations, but she also knew that the boys were closer to one another than they were to her.

On top of that, they still expected her hold their hands through all of their homework assignments, as if they were small children. They were sixteen bloody years old! She found it absolutely appalling that neither of them could finish a simple essay without relying on her to keep them on task and give them answers.

She had just spent the entirety of her after-lunch free period helping Harry and Ron with their DADA assignment, and these thoughts weighed heavily on her mind as she made her way down to the dungeons for double Potions. Her mood lightened, however, once they took their seats and she deeply inhaled the heavenly scent that was emanating from the cauldron nearest to their table. She immediately recognized it as the love potion Amortentia, and she eagerly glanced around the room at the other cauldrons, also correctly identifying Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, and Felix Felicis.

Her hand barely left the air once class began and Professor Slughorn questioned the students on the properties of the featured potions. She was quite satisfied with herself by the time she began work on the assigned Draught of Living Death. It was coming along quite nicely, at least until the color refused to turn from deep purple to lilac.

She didn't understand. She had followed the book's directions word for word. Her mounting frustration came to its pinnacle when she looked over at Harry's cauldron. His potion had already turned pink.

"How are you doing that?" she asked, barely concealing her irritation.

He told her to add a clockwise stir, which was ridiculous. The book clearly stated that the potion was to be stirred counterclockwise!

Before she knew it, time was up, and Slughorn had presented Harry with the reward for having produced the best potion: a small bottle of Felix Felicis. _This was the worst Potions lesson I've ever had… Even considering the fact that they've all been with Snape up until now_, she thought, collecting her belongings and shoving them into her bag.

As she wandered the familiar path to the Great Hall for dinner, she muttered angrily to herself. "I followed the directions exactly! That potion should have been bloody perfect! Add a clockwise stir, right, why don't I just piss in it as well?"

Dinner did not do anything to improve her attitude. As Harry explained the secret behind his perfect potion, her anger only deepened. _Here I am, busting my arse to produce a good potion, and all he has to do is follow some anonymous scribbles in a dilapidated old textbook to be the best in the class! Who knows where those notes even came from anyway?_

Ginny walked up behind Harry, just as Ron was lamenting the fact that he had received the unblemished copy of _Advanced Potion-Making._ She seemed just as distraught as Hermione over the fact that Harry was taking advice from something someone had written in a book, though clearly for different reasons.

Hermione readily agreed with Ginny's point, and snatched Harry's book away from him. "_Specialis Revelio!_" she proclaimed, tapping the book with her wand.

When nothing happened, Harry reclaimed his book indignantly. Hermione sighed, and continued with her dinner. She still didn't trust that book. There was something shady about it. Plus, Harry was practically cheating. She finished her dinner quickly and muttered something about "going to study from _real_ books" to anyone who was listening.

She tried to work on her Ancient Runes homework in the library for awhile, but she found that she was having a difficult time focusing. After about an hour, she realized that she was in too foul a mood to accomplish anything productive. _This is not working. I need to blow off some steam… I bet there are some first years somewhere in need of detention._ With that, she unceremoniously dumped her homework into her bag and headed back up to Gryffindor tower to drop off her belongings.

She began mentally making a plan of attack as she made her way out her dormitory. _I'll start with the main floor, and then work my way up. It's a bit early right now for anybody to be up in the astronomy tower, but I bet by the time I'm finished with-- _her thoughts broke off when she stepped into the common room and saw Harry and Ron in the corner, pouring over the desecrated Potions book. She stopped for a moment, scowled, and then disappeared through the portrait hole.

Lost in thought, Hermione began her rounds. She spent the entire ground floor thinking about how much Ron ticked her off. The first floor was dedicated to Harry and his bloody Potions text. By the time she reached the third floor, she had worked herself into such a foul mood that she was glad she hadn't seen any other students. There was no telling how nasty she might be to the first unlucky soul that crossed her path.

Rounding a corner into the main corridor of the third floor, she imagined herself knocking over every suit of armor within sight. _I wish they offered kick-boxing or something here… Beating the living hell out of something sounds incredibly appealing at the moment. _She was just considering going up to the Room of Requirement to hit a punching bag, when her thoughts were interrupted. A hand covered her mouth and another grasped her midsection, pulling her into a dark, unused classroom.

Immediately, she reached for her wand. Before she had the opportunity to use it, however, she found herself shoved up against a rough stone wall. Unable to see anything more than the silhouette that was holding her in place, she drew on all of her senses for information. The assailant was clearly male and larger than her, though he wasn't huge. That was good. She could assume, judging from the firm body that was holding her own against the wall, that he either played Quidditch or spent a considerable amount of free time exercising.

She knew that the door was a little way off to her right, and the acoustics indicated that the classroom they were in was of average to large size. The slightly musty smell that met her nostrils suggested that the room had not seen company in quite some time. She had managed to remain in possession of her wand, but her arm was not in a convenient position to use it at the moment. If she had the element of surprise, she could probably wrench her arm free and hex him. All of these things registered in her mind within the first few seconds of being thrown into the wall.

She managed to utter the words, "What the fuck?" before she was silenced by a set of lips pressed violently against her own.

Hermione's brain was sent back into over-drive. _Who the hell is this? Obviously he was waiting here. Was he waiting for me specifically, or just anybody? What does he have planned? A bit of snogging, or something more? _His tongue worked its way along her bottom lip enticingly. _Oh! That actually feels… Amazing._ She felt her defenses slipping as he bit down on her lip. _Fuck. That's it._

Abandoning any sense of restraint, and ignoring the numerous voices in her head telling her to hex the bastard and run for it, she put away her wand and returned the kiss with an equal amount of force. Her assailant seemed surprised at this, and she took the opportunity to ease her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. Drawing her hands apart, the shirt ripped open and buttons flew everywhere.

His mouth left hers, and a low voice whispered, "Bloody hell." A moment later, she felt her neck being bitten, hard. In response, she moaned and dragged her nails down his back, raising welts. _I __was__ looking for someone to punish, wasn't I? I suppose I can settle for beating the living hell out of somebody __and__ having a nice, thorough shag at the same time_, she reasoned with herself. That was the last coherent thought she had, because at that moment a hand began kneading its way up her thigh.

"I'm going to tear you apart," he murmured against her breast. Suddenly, she was hoisted up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he moved backwards until he was stopped by a table. Spinning around, he set her on the table.

She slid right back off. "The hell you are," she responded. Grabbing his collar, she whipped him back around so that he was against the table. Still kissing him wildly, her hands began undoing his belt.

She felt incredibly feral and free. She pushed him down onto his back and tore off his pants in one smooth motion. Drawing her wand once again, she muttered, "_Incarcerous_." Ropes sprang up out of nowhere, binding his wrists and ankles to the table. Though she couldn't see his form in the darkened room, she knew that he was spread-eagle on the table.

"Wha- what are you doing?" For the first time, the assailant seemed less than certain about the events that were unfolding.

Hermione climbed up onto the table with him. "Shut up and enjoy the ride." She hiked up her skirt and straddled his immobile body. Slowly, she drew her nails down his chest. As her hands approached the waistband of his boxer briefs, his breath increased its pace. He gasped when her fingers hooked under his waistband and pulled it down just far enough so she had access to his erection.

She leaned forward and bit into the hollow of his neck as she positioned herself over him. One hand reached down to push her panties aside while the other steadied herself on the table. A guttural sound emitted from the back of his throat as she slid down onto him.

She fucked him hard, pinching his nipples as she rode him. Her fingers tangled in his soft hair, and she pulled it as she felt herself begin to climax. She hadn't planned on waiting for him to come, but he found his release just a moment before she found hers.

Breathing heavily, she pulled herself off of him and pushed her hair out of her face. _Wow. I daresay that was a bit more effective than scaring a first year or hitting a punching bag... Shit. Oh, __shit__! What did I just do? I just fucked some random guy in the dark! No, I just __tied up__ and fucked some random guy in the dark! This was __not__ in the plan for the evening! What do I do now? What the hell do I do now?_

After several moments of silent panic, a voice cut through the darkness. "Are you going to untie me?" Her attention snapped back to the form on the table. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. _Okay, Hermione. Just play it cool. You are clever, and capable, and this is not the worst thing that could have happened._

"Oh, right. Sorry. _Finite Incantatem_." She waved her wand in his direction. After only a momentary hesitation, she lifted her wand again, curious to see the face of the person she had just ridden like a Nimbus 2000. "_Lumos_."

Hermione had prepared herself for a lot of things in the moments before she uttered the spell. But she had _not_ prepared herself for the sight that was sitting on the table in front of her. _I take it back. This is __definitely__ the worst thing that could have happened._

_A/N: As amazing as the phrase "ridden like a Nimbus 2000" is, I can't claim credit for it. I read it awhile back in another fanfic, though I don't remember which one. If anybody knows which story it is from, please let me know so I can give the author proper credit for their genius._


	4. I Can't Spare to Slip Up

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 3 – I Can't Spare to Slip Up**

Draco smirked as the tip of Granger's wand lit up. He could see her eyes registering what was in front of her, and she did not look happy. _And the Mudblood goes ape-shit in… Three… Two…_

"_Malfoy_?" she asked incredulously. "I… You… Son of a bitch! What the hell were you doing? You accosted me! I was trying to do my prefect duties, and you attacked me! You pulled me into this room so that you could have your way with me—"

"Might I remind you, Granger, that I was in fact the one tied to a table, while you rode my cock with reckless abandon?" Her face reddened at this, though from anger or embarrassment, he was not sure. Either way, he was getting a rise out of her, and he decided to see how long he could taunt her before she completely snapped. "I think that it was I who was attacked. Not that I am complaining, of course. Who knew you were so deliciously kinky?" He winked at her, and began pulling his pants back on.

Granger looked like she was about to explode. "Fuck you, Malfoy."

He smiled as he re-clasped his belt. "I believe you already did that, Granger. Like a pro, I might add. I'll even admit that it caught me off guard. I always figured you to be a virgin, judging from the stick up your sweet little arse. Now, however, I have my doubts regarding that notion. Tell me, love, was I the first to have the pleasure of sticking it in you, or did someone else beat me to the punch?" Draco reclined against the table, leisurely waiting for her response.

"As if I would waste my virginity on the likes of you!" she replied scathingly.

He was a bit taken aback by the hatred in her voice. Though he wasn't terribly concerned about her opinion of him, the comment still bothered him for some reason. _Never mind that. I can ponder her PMS later. The priority of the moment is to retain control over the situation._ "Which was it then, Potter or Weasley, who taught you that amazing little hip roll?" he asked conversationally.

Granger stood with her arms crossed over her chest. "Neither. Not that it's any of your concern."

"I see. However, since it appears to have worked out well in my favor, do you mind terribly if I ask who then? Mother always said that one ought to send a Thank You note to those who assist a Malfoy. It's only proper," Draco responded.

"Oh, but of course! I wouldn't want you to further befoul the Malfoy name this evening, since you already have 'fucking the Mudblood' as a black mark against you!" she exclaimed sardonically, throwing her hands up into the air. As she headed for the door, she looked back over her shoulder and showed him a smirk that rivaled his own. "Though if you absolutely must know, you can send the Thank You card to Viktor Krum." A second later, she was gone.

Draco slumped back against the table, letting out a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding. _Holy fuck! That was not on the itinerary for the evening. What the hell just happened?_ After a moment or so of staring rather stupidly at the empty doorway, he pushed himself off from the table. Assuming that Granger had chosen not to continue her rounds for the evening, he decided that it was safe to venture out of the classroom.

As he made his way back down to the Slytherin common room, he began analyzing the events that had played out that night. _How could I have let the Mudblood take control away from me like that? I mean, it was a bloody fantastic shag and all… But she was supposed to be the one tied up and terrified! Not me! Who knew she wanted to jump my bones like that?_

He paused before going down a flight of stairs to elaborate on this thought. _Well, in all fairness, she __didn't__ want to jump my bones. She apparently wanted to jump __anybody's__ bones, and then she was appalled to discover that it was in fact __my__ bones that she had jumped. I suppose it's obvious what I need to do to rectify this situation in my favor… I need to accomplish what I had originally intended: I need to fuck the Mudblood. Next time, she will __not__ get any say in the situation. Next time, I will show her exactly who has the control._

Satisfied that he had sorted that situation out, he enjoyed the silence of the remainder of his walk. Though it was almost nine o'clock, he knew that many of the older students would still be in the common room. Pansy would probably want a complete play-by-play of what he had done since dinner. He snickered as he imagined telling her, "Well, I watched the Mudblood Granger in the library for about an hour, and then I followed her until I found an opportunity to accost her. At which point, she tied me up and fucked me like it was going out of style. And now, here I am!"

_No, she definitely won't think I'm crazy if I tell her that._ The entrance to the common room loomed ahead, and he braced himself for the chaos that surely would be found within. He muttered the password, and stepped into the room. It wasn't quite as loud as he had expected, but there were still a number of people gathered there. As he had predicted, Pansy swooped in on him almost immediately.

"Draco! Where have you been?" Pansy asked as she reached up to straighten his collar.

He slapped her hand away. "I've been busy. Planning… You know," he responded vaguely, heading toward an empty armchair near the fireplace. Pansy followed him.

She squished herself next to him in the chair. "Oh," she said knowingly. "Your secret mission for the Dark Lord?"

The look he gave her could have halted a Hungarian Horntail. "What did I tell you about discussing that out in the open? It won't stay secret for very long if you continue running your mouth like this!" he hissed. Pansy looked aghast at this, but nodded anyway. "Now tell me," Draco continued in a more pleasant tone, "what did I miss this evening?"

Perking up immediately, she began eagerly highlighting everything that had happened that night. He half-listened to her, while entertaining his own thoughts.

"…this little first-year, some Huxley or Buxton or something, told Goyle to watch where he put his oaf-like feet, and…"

_Goyle __is__ oaf-like, that's not a lie._ He sighed. _I need to come up with a real plan to kill Dumbledore, if I don't want my whole family to die anytime soon._

"…it was so funny, he'll probably be sporting a black eye for at least the next week, after the thrashing that Goyle gave him. I doubt that even Madam Pomfrey can do anything to fix it…"

_That necklace is supposed to be Plan B, but little good that does me without a Plan A. Hell, my plan for shagging Granger is more developed than this._

"…and then somebody was telling the story about how Montague got lost in the Vanishing Cabinet last year…"

That was when something clicked in Draco's mind.

"The Vanishing Cabinet? That's right, he was lost in there for quite some time, wasn't he?" Draco asked casually, now focusing all of his attention on Pansy's ramblings.

"Days, he was in there. He finally ended up apparating out, though he nearly died doing it. Can't you just imagine how awful it would be, trapped in the dark, able to hear people on the outside, but unable to get out?" Pansy sympathized.

Draco took his chin in his hand and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Yes, that would be awful. If I'm not mistaken, he was able to hear people not just at Hogwarts, but at Borgin and Burke's as well."

Pansy's brow furrowed as she tried to remember details. "I believe so, though he couldn't make out what anybody was saying. Just the sounds of their voices."

_That would imply that there is some sort of passage between the Vanishing Cabinet that Montague was stuffed into, and the Vanishing Cabinet at Borgin and Burke's. How interesting. With the Floo Network being so carefully watched, and apparition not even possible, the methods of getting on and off of school grounds are rather limited. But this… This could be something. If the Vanishing Cabinet here at Hogwarts were to be fixed… Well, I'd be willing to bet a chunk of my inheritance that it would provide an unmonitored means of passage in and out of the school. Very interesting, indeed._

He cleared his throat. "Say, whatever happened to that broken old Vanishing Cabinet anyway? Surely it wasn't kept around, what with it being such a danger to students and all?" he asked.

Pansy paused for a moment, clearly trying to recall if she had heard news on the whereabouts of the cabinet. "I think Filch put it into storage somewhere."

"I suppose that would make sense." They sat together in silence for a few moments, then Draco stretched and made a show of looking at the clock above the fireplace. "It's starting to get late. I'm heading off to bed now," he said as he stood.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning," Pansy said rather reluctantly. She also rose, and pulled him into a quick embrace. "Good night, Draco," she murmured as she released him.

Draco shook his head at her in a combination of irritation and affection. "Good night, Pansy." He started off in the direction of his dormitory. _If I can find that Vanishing Cabinet, and fix it, I could have a secret passageway into the school. And if I could come and go as I pleased, without anybody searching me… Then perhaps this mission wouldn't be so impossible after all._

He entered his dormitory and undressed for bed, still contemplating the Vanishing Cabinet. _On the top of the list for this week: find the Vanishing Cabinet… And properly fuck the Mudblood._ He fell asleep with a smile of anticipation on his face.


	5. And I Close the Door on My Fantasies

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 4**** – And I Close the Door on My Fantasies**

Hermione sat on her bed, the curtains closed around her. Though it had been a few days already, she was still having a very difficult time processing what had happened between her and Malfoy. It was almost time to go down to breakfast, but she couldn't bring herself to move yet. She didn't know what to think, so she had stopped trying. Instead, she had thrown herself into her schoolwork, and was prone to fits of staring into space when she wasn't otherwise occupied.

That was what she was experiencing at the moment. Finally, she sighed heavily and hoisted herself out of bed. _It would probably be for the best to just pretend that none of that night with_—she shuddered—_Malfoy__ ever happened._ She took a deep, cleansing breath. Exhaling slowly, she imagined every trace of that memory leaving her body. _Perfect. Now my life can get back to normal!_

If only it were that easy…

After getting ready for the day, she went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, feeling lighter and cheerier than she had in days. As she took a seat at the Gryffindor table with her friends, she brightly announced her arrival. "Good morning, everyone!"

Ginny smiled and waved, then went back to her conversation with one of her fellow fifth-years. Harry and Ron each took a long enough hiatus from their eggs to mumble, "'Morning, Hermione," then resumed shoveling food into their mouths.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was certainly not going to let the boys' questionable eating habits ruin her morning. After helping herself to some toast, bacon, and eggs, she picked up Neville's discarded copy of _The Daily Prophet_. It contained nothing of much interest, so she deposited it back onto the table and focused on her breakfast.

"You ready for Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Harry asked Hermione a few minutes later.

She looked up from her plate and realized that the Great Hall was beginning to clear out. "Yeah, I suppose. I'll just take this piece of toast to go."

"So what has you in such a chipper mood this morning?" Ron questioned as they made their way to class.

Hermione smiled. "Why shouldn't I be in a chipper mood?"

"How about the fact that there is a rising Dark Lord, probably plotting all of our deaths as we speak?" Harry pitched in.

She scoffed. "Voldemort himself couldn't ruin my day!"

"I think she's gone completely mental," Ron muttered to Harry.

"Oh, stop!" she exclaimed as she swatted Ron's arm. "I've simply decided to be in a good mood, and I am determined not to let anything change that. What's so wrong with that, really?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "Nothing, I guess," Harry finally answered.

Hermione smiled again, and tossed her hair. "Alright then, if you don't mind, we have a class to get to." She re-adjusted her book bag, took a bite of her toast, and continued down the corridor, leaving Harry and Ron standing in her wake.

Behind her, she faintly heard Harry breathe, "Girls…" Hermione chuckled to herself lightly as she walked away. Defense Against the Dark Arts was rather uneventful that day, and her pleasant mood lasted through lunch. It wasn't until Potions, in fact, that it began to wane.

"I'm going to assign partners for today's class," Professor Slughorn announced once the class was situated. "You will be working on a salve for Madam Pomfrey today, and it is a tricky one! You have to rely on your partners rather heavily to make sure this turns out properly, but I'm sure that won't be a problem. After all, you are all advanced students! Instructions are on the board," he said, and with wave of his wand, the instructions appeared on the board.

Hermione sighed. She hated it when teachers assigned partners. She found it much easier to work with someone she knew well, or by herself. _Hopefully I'll get paired up with Harry or Ron. _Slughorn began calling out names, partnering people off. _Damn, no such luck._ As Harry was paired with Terry Boot, and Ron with Ernie Macmillan, she was only hoping not to be paired with a Slytherin.

"Ah, Miss Granger…" Hermione inhaled sharply in anticipation. "How about you work with…" _Please, somebody tolerable. Please_. "Mr. Malfoy." She swore under her breath. _Of course. Of __course__ I'm partnered with Malfoy! Why would I possibly get to work with somebody I could stand? _And with that, her good mood was gone.

She looked over at Malfoy. He was smirking, as usual. _Stupid bastard. Does he ever stop smirking? I'd like to smack that idiotic look right off his face…_ Hermione thought bitterly. She scowled at him as he gathered his things, and moved to her table.

"Why hello, Granger. I think that you and I are going to have a lovely time together this afternoon, don't you?" Malfoy began smoothly.

Hermione snorted. _Yeah, that's likely._ "Fuck off," she sneered.

Malfoy leaned closer to her. "What a filthy little mouth you have there, love. I'd like to see what other dirty things you can do with it. Perhaps later…" he trailed off suggestively.

She gave him a disgusted look. "That is not going to happen. And for the record, as far as I'm concerned, nothing ever _did_ happen."

"Oh, but it did. I'm actually quite convinced that you loved every second you spent moaning and writhing against me," he whispered into her ear. "But that is neither here nor there," he continued in a normal voice. "We have salve to make."

After taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she responded, "Right. Would you like to collect the rare ingredients while I light the cauldron and prepare everything else?" To her surprise, he nodded in agreement and headed for the store cupboard. _If he can just keep his asinine comments to himself, perhaps I can make it through class without having to hex him under the table_, she mused. _Though I suppose the chances of that are slim._

Once she had completed her share of preparation, she sat back for a moment, waiting for Malfoy to return. She scanned the room, observing her classmates. Her gaze fell on Harry and Ernie's table, and her eyes narrowed when she saw that Harry was searching his abused copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ for tips on the salve. _I'll be damned if I let him and that stupid textbook best me again._ Her jaw clenched in determination. _I'm going to have to work nicely with Malfoy if it kills me. He may be an absolute prick, but he's good at Potions. Between the two of us, we can take Harry __and__ his bloody book._

"Problems, Granger?" Malfoy asked as he returned to their table and saw the irritated expression on her face.

Hermione looked up and smiled sweetly at him. "No. No problems whatsoever." Her voice lowered, and she dropped the smile as quickly as she had adopted it. "Now listen here, Malfoy. We are going to produce the best salve in the class, and we're also going to do it the fastest. Do you understand?"

"Ah… I do understand. You're upset that Potter beat you the other day, is that it?" he questioned.

"Of course I'm upset! It's not bloody fair, and I won't tolerate it happening again!" she hissed.

"It's _not_ fair, is it, love? Everyone, including all of Slytherin, knows that you're the brains behind those two morons you call your friends."

She smiled wryly. "I'm slightly curious as to why you're not being a dickhead right now, but thanks anyway for stroking my ego."

Malfoy gently ran his hand up and down her thigh. "I can stroke something else if you'd like."

Her pulse quickened as she momentarily considered taking him up on his offer. _What the hell, Hermione? This is __Malfoy__! Have some self-control! _She slapped his hand away impatiently. "Knock it off, Malfoy! We have salve to make," she repeated his earlier statement.

"Very well then, let's begin," he said, and began setting out the ingredients in the order that they would use them.

They worked together in relative silence for about thirty minutes, speaking only to say things like, "Can you weigh this out?" or, "Pass me the aloe?" Finally, their concoction was at the point where they were to let it simmer and thicken for about fifteen minutes, during which they could relax a bit.

Malfoy broke the silence. "I wasn't being a dickhead to you for two reasons."

Hermione eyed him curiously. "Oh, really? What might those two reasons be?"

"Like you, I would love nothing more than to best Potter. Doing so requires me to get along with my partner, at least long enough to complete the assignment," he said simply.

_That makes sense._ "That's only one reason," she pointed out.

"The other reason," he began, arching one eyebrow, "is that if I'm mean to you, it's less likely that you'll sleep with me again."

She stared at him incredulously. "You really are a repugnant bastard, you know that?"

He ignored her. "I'm serious, Granger."

"I'm sure you are. That doesn't make your statement any less appalling," she responded.

"Think about it, love. We've already slept together, so it's not as if we would really be crossing any lines. We both enjoyed ourselves, and that speaks for itself. Furthermore, it appears that we both share some… preferences… that most people, at least here at Hogwarts, don't care to indulge in." He paused, giving her a few moments to soak it all in.

_It's true… What he's saying does make some sense. Wait. What am I thinking? It __doesn't__ make sense, because this is Malfoy we're talking about! This is sick! Totally sick! It was bad enough that I managed to accidentally sleep with him once, now I'm considering doing it again? On purpose?_

Her mental tirade would have continued if Malfoy hadn't interrupted. "I'm not trying to make this into anything it's not. We would still hate each other the rest of the time. But it might be nice to help one another relieve a little stress every now and again, don't you think?"

She was silent for a moment, war still waging in her mind. "No, I don't think so," she declared. "Now it's time to stir that salve, isn't it?"

He smirked at her. "Come on, Granger…"

"I will sleep with you again when hell freezes over," she said firmly. "Now hand me that spoon, would you?" she demanded.

He relented and handed her the spoon. Several minutes later, they were transferring the finished salve into a small tub for storage. Hermione flagged Professor Slughorn down to check their finished product.

"Oho!" he boomed. "Very nice, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy! Ten points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin. Class, if you'd like to see a perfect example of what the finished salve ought to look like, look no further than this table!"

Despite her irritation with Malfoy, Hermione couldn't help the triumphant smile that crept onto her face. _Perhaps my good day isn't ruined after all._


	6. Stripped Down to Her Skin

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

_Author's Note: The beginning of this chapter kind of reminds me of the scene near the beginning of the movie The Labyrinth, when the goblins are hiding under the bed, waiting for Sarah to say the magic words… Unfortunately, however, there is no David Bowie here. But alas, we do have Draco._

**Chapter 5 – Stripped Down to her Skin**

If there was one thing that Draco could be called without a doubt, it was resourceful. In just short of two weeks, he had located the broken Vanishing Cabinet… Mostly. He was fairly certain that he knew where it was, he just didn't know how to get to it.

With the assistance of Crabbe and Goyle, Draco had managed to sneak into Filch's office in search of information regarding the Cabinet. A file titled with Montague's name contained a full report of the incident involving the Cabinet. According to Filch's records, after Montague found his way out of the Cabinet, it was put in a large storage room on the seventh floor. The curious thing about the storage room was that it seemed to have disappeared after the Cabinet was left there.

Having checked every other room on the seventh floor, Draco concluded that there was only one place that the Cabinet could be. It had to be in the room where Potter and his groupies had secretly congregated the previous year for their Dumbledore's Army meetings. As a former member of the Inquisitorial Squad, Draco knew where this room was located. Unfortunately, he had yet to figure out exactly how to enter.

_How the hell did Pothead get in here?_ Draco silently fumed as he stared at the section of wall where the door ought to have been. For the third time that evening, he pointed his wand at the wall and said, "_Alohomora_." He wasn't surprised when, for the third time that evening, nothing happened.

"Son of a bitch!" he raged out loud. _I need to find out if that Vanishing Cabinet is in that bloody worthless room! _He began pacing. _This is utter bullshit. Maybe it only opens for piece of shit, do-gooder Gryffindor fucktards, wouldn't that just be fanfuckingtastic? _Angrily, he aimed his wand over his shoulder and shot a Reductor Curse at the wall. It bounced off the wall and hit a suit of armor.

Draco stared at the pile of rubbish that littered the nook where the suit of armor had stood only seconds before. _Damn, even I'm impressed with myself on that one._ He resumed pacing. _I wish I could figure out how to make that fucking door appear! My mother's life may very well depend on this… I need to find that Vanishing Cabinet. If only—_

Heavy footsteps around the corner interrupted his thoughts. Whoever was approaching sounded as if they couldn't be bothered. Draco decided that it would be best to conceal himself until he could determine the nature of the situation. Glancing around quickly, he stepped into the recently vacated nook, carefully avoiding the rubbish pile he had created there.

He listened intently as the footsteps neared. They slowed to a halt only a short distance from where he was hiding. Slowly, he leaned forward just far enough to see who was in the corridor with him. A sly smile crept onto his face. Hermione Granger was standing directly in front of the wall where the secret room was located, an expression of rage marring her features. She began to pace back and forth, muttering something unintelligible as she did so.

The moment her back was turned, Draco took the opportunity to step out of his hiding place. _If I can't achieve one goal tonight, I might as well work on the other._ He took a silent stride forward, stopping only centimeters away from her. Standing so near behind her, he was able to catch the tail end of what she was saying. "…safely vent my aggression."

Granger took a deep breath and began again as she spun around on her heel, "I need—" She stopped abruptly when she realized that Draco was obstructing her path. Unfazed, she met his stare. "What the hell do you want, Malfoy?"

He flashed his trademark smirk. _I want to fuck you senseless. I want to rip you open and tear you apart. I want to make you scream my name._ "Good evening, Granger. I believe I heard something about 'venting your aggression'?" he asked silkily. "In case you're interested, my offer still stands."

She glared at him unwaveringly. "You are a right bastard, Malfoy."

"Yes, I do believe you've informed me of that," he responded, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Now, what do you say about letting me help you with your frustrations?" he questioned as his mouth descended upon her neck.

She stiffened at his touch, but relaxed as his lips found her earlobe. After only a moment of his ministrations, she sighed deeply and melted into his embrace. _And yet again, Draco Malfoy prevails_, he silently cheered. He brought his left hand up and tangled it in her hair. She moaned slightly as he gave it a tug. Finally, Draco released her, and stared down into her face, waiting for an answer to his earlier question.

"I'd say," she whispered throatily, "that hell has frozen over. I'm in."

He grinned triumphantly. "I thought you'd see reason eventually. Where shall we go, though? We can't very well shag in the middle of the corridor, for obvious reasons."

It was Granger's turn to smirk. "I know just the place." She began pacing again, and a moment later, a door emerged on the wall. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at Draco. "Shall we?" she asked as she reached out to grasp the door handle.

Grinning silently in response, he followed her through the doorway. Inside was a large bedroom, draped in rich fabrics. A king sized bed stood on a platform in the middle, adorned with burgundy satin blankets. A quick glance above the bed revealed that a mirror was fixed to the ceiling. Next to the bed was a long table containing just about anything one could want to use in the bedroom. Silk scarves, a whip, and massage oil were only a few of the items that Draco noticed.

Upon viewing the sex swing that hung in one corner of the room, he realized that something was amiss. _Potter and his gang had meetings in __here__? Either they were having some extremely kinky group orgies, or they were planning to take on Umbridge by giving her a hearty spanking for being so very naughty…_ He managed a smirk over that one. _Perhaps they did both._

"So… This is the room that you and Potter were holding meetings in last year?" he asked slowly.

Granger almost choked as she whipped around with widened eyes. "No!" she sputtered. "I mean, yes, but it wasn't like this," she gestured at the sex toy-ridden room. "It's called the Room of Requirement. It adjusts itself to suit the user's needs."

"I think I understand. So there _wasn't_ a sex swing in here when you guys used it?" Draco couldn't help but say.

Chuckling quietly, she responded, "No, there was not a sex swing when we used it." She wandered farther into the room. "I was actually on my way inside when you found me. See, you have to pass in front of the room three times, thinking about why you need to use it, and then the door appears. I wanted to hit a punching bag for awhile. Harry and Ron were really annoying the hell out of me, and— never mind, it doesn't matter now. We're not here to talk about that." She turned around and looked at him meaningfully.

_This is unbelievable. Not only did Granger appear out of nowhere and agree to let me shag the hell out of her, but she just told me how to get into the room. I didn't even have to try!_ Draco smiled for what seemed like the millionth time that night. "So what were you thinking about just now, when you made the door appear for us?"

She took a couple of steps toward him. "I was thinking about all of the completely inappropriate things that we were going to do to one another once we got inside."

"You have no idea how inappropriate I'm about to get with you," Draco whispered as he closed the space between them. His lips met hers in a deep, sensual kiss as his hands made their way around her figure. Scooping her into his arms, he made his way to the bed with her. He gracefully threw her down and began pulling articles of clothing off of her, never interrupting the tirade of love bites he was showering down on her neck.

He only leaned off of her long enough to summon a handful of scarves with his wand. "Now it's your turn to discover what it's like to be tied down and fucked by someone you can't see," he murmured softly. At that, Granger looked slightly apprehensive, but it didn't overtake the obvious excitement that she also wore on her face. Draco chuckled, and captured her wrists in his hands, binding them both to the headboard. Then he reached down, and tied her ankles to the bottom bedposts.

_Oh yes, the Mudblood is mine_, he thought as he stared into her curious eyes. Her gaze flickered away for a moment, and he knew that she was staring at herself in the mirror above. She looked back at him, her eyes narrowed in determination. "Fuck me. Hard," she demanded.

"All in due time, love. All in due time," he returned. "But first…" He took the final scarf and draped it over her eyes. Knotting it in the back of her head, he leaned back and admired his handiwork. Granger lay in the nude, spread out over the satin. Her pale curves contrasted brightly with the rich red tone of fabric beneath her. Her arms and legs were tightly secured to the bed frame with black silk, and her eyes were covered with the same. She was completely at Draco's mercy, and he didn't think that he had ever beheld a more erotic sight.

Moving in time with her shallow breaths, her breasts rose and fell ever so slightly. A flush had found its way onto her face, and it was evident that she waiting in anticipation of his next move. Not one to disappoint, Draco stuck his index finger into his mouth, then traced the moistened fingertip down her chest, starting with her neck. By the time he had reached the valley between her breasts, she was straining against her bonds, attempting to push against his hand. He ignored her, and his finger continued on its path down her torso. She gasped as his hand made its way down past her navel, and closer to the part of her that wanted him so badly.

Before he could give her that satisfaction, however, he removed his hand from her, smirking at her hiss of disapproval. After reveling in her irritation for a moment, he finally paid her breasts the attention that she had earlier desired. He captured one nipple lightly between his teeth, while he pinched the other with his fingertips. It only took one flick of his tongue to have her moaning out loud and twisting against the scarves that held her in place.

"Patience, love," he whispered. Slowly, he brought his unused hand down to the apex of her thighs. The slickness he found threatened to undo him then and there. _Fuck patience. I need to take her __now__._ Draco lifted himself off of her long enough to pull his trousers down, and then he entered her swiftly.

Over and over again, he thrust into her until neither of them had any breath or energy left. Draco dropped down onto the bed and sprawled out next to Granger. Reaching over, he tugged the scarf off of her face, and their eyes met in the mirror above. She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, uh, are you going to untie me?" she asked, echoing his sentiments from their first night together.

Draco wiped the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand and sat up. "Yeah." He freed her ankles first, and then he undid the knots holding her wrists.

Once free of her constraints, she rolled off the bed and began collecting her clothes. "Um, thanks, I guess. That released my aggression quite nicely," Granger said as she began dressing.

He began pulling on his own clothes. "It was my pleasure. Perhaps we could do it again sometime?"

"Perhaps," she responded. She took one last look at him, and then she slipped through the door.

Draco sighed as he sat back on the edge of the bed, a million thoughts clouding his mind. _I fucked Granger. Again. Properly._ He ran a hand through his hair. _And she told me how to use this room. The Room of Requirement. She told me, and it was completely unsolicited. Today was my fucking lucky day._ He grinned widely as made his way out of the room.


	7. Dance to the Burning Flame

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 6 – Dance to the Burning Flame**

She hadn't planned on ever talking to Malfoy again. She certainly hadn't planned on sleeping with him again. But… Things didn't always go as planned. The situation arose, and at that moment, Hermione made the conscious decision to sleep with the so-called enemy. She did, however, find it slightly immature of Ron and Harry to refer to Malfoy as the enemy still. Were they still twelve years old? _I'll add that to the list of things they do that annoy me_. Sure, Malfoy was a complete and total tosser, but he was just a boy, really. Other than calling her "Mudblood," and making other disparaging remarks, he was fairly harmless in her eyes.

Someone like, say, _Voldemort_… Now _he_ was the enemy. He was somebody who could do some harm. Sure, Malfoy's daddy was a Death Eater, but he was also locked up in Azkaban, right where he belonged. Hermione knew better than to underestimate Draco Malfoy, but she had seen enough of his humanity over the years to know that he wasn't truly evil. Not to the extent that his own father was, anyway.

Maybe it was just her Gryffindor idealism at work, but she believed that there was still hope for Malfoy. _Not much hope, unfortunately_, she thought with a smirk, _but a little, anyway_. Hermione wished that it would be enough, for his sake. He was still an arrogant prick, at least as far as she could tell, but they had formed some strange kind of bond by willingly sleeping with one another. They had both acknowledged the fact that Hermione was using their encounters as a means to deal with stress, but Malfoy hadn't made any excuses as to why he was sleeping with her. She supposed that part of it was the thrill of conquering "Hermione Granger, Mudblood and best friend of Harry Potter," but she felt that there was more to it.

She had seen the look in his eyes when he snuck up on her the night before. He, unsurprisingly, had donned the cool, controlled mask that he so often wore, but Hermione noticed a flicker of something else there. It was a look that she knew well, after being so close to Harry for the past several years. It was a combination of things: anxiety, frustration, calculation, and determination. There were very few doubts in her mind that Malfoy wasn't using sex with her as a release, just as she was doing.

All in all, Hermione had come to the conclusion that sleeping with Malfoy wasn't as bad as she had originally believed. She'd had a good time, and so had he. What was so wrong with having a good time? _It felt nice, actually, to do what I wanted. Not what Harry wanted, not what Ron wanted, and not what Professor McGonagall wanted. What I wanted._ It didn't hurt that Harry and Ron would flip out if they ever found out. That fact gave Hermione a small sense of satisfaction. It was her own private mini-rebellion against the boys who viewed her as an asexual bookworm. _There was certainly nothing asexual __or__ bookish about what I did with Malfoy!_

Deep down in her heart, she knew that the boys didn't mean to treat her like an encyclopedia, but that didn't stop her from wanting to be more than that to somebody else. She wasn't sure what exactly she was to Malfoy, and it probably didn't matter anyway, but she was sure that it was at least slightly sexier than a reference book. She had certainly felt pretty sexy the other night in the Room of Requirement.

"Er, Hermione?" Ron prodded gently. "Are you alright? You're looking a bit flushed, and you haven't turned a page in ten minutes."

Hermione snapped out of her reverie. "Oh. Yes. I'm fine," she said as she shook her hair out of her face and stretched her arms. Ron looked somewhat unconvinced, but he turned back to his homework after Hermione smiled reassuringly at him.

_I'll have exercise more caution when having those thoughts! It won't do to get all riled up over Malfoy while I'm supposed to be studying in the library…_ It was just after dinner, and Hermione had a short study date with Harry and Ron before the usual Friday night festivities in the common room. It had been almost a week since Hermione had Confunded McLaggen at the Quidditch tryouts, and three days had passed since her last encounter with Malfoy.

"Are you _sure_ you're fine?" Harry and Ron were both staring curiously at her this time. _Damn! I spaced off again._

She closed her book rather forcefully. "Yes, I'm fine. I promise. My brain's just gone to mush after all the work we've done this week. I think I'm done for tonight, how about you two?" she questioned unnecessarily. Of course they were ready to be done. They both nodded enthusiastically.

The trio made their way back to the common room together. The boys immediately gravitated toward the corner where Seamus and Dean were sitting, probably up to no good. "I'm just going to head off to bed early, I think," she called to them as they sat down.

They all looked up and waved. "Probably for the best, if you're not feeling well, Hermione. See you in the morning," Ron responded.

She smiled at them and then disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. _It was sweet of Ron to be so concerned about me. I don't know what to think about him sometimes. Days like today, he can be such a sweetheart. But other days, he's the world's biggest prat_. She shook her head and sighed as she pushed the door open to her dormitory.

She was met with an interesting scene. Her roommates, Lavender and Parvati, were sitting across from Ginny Weasley and Demelza Robbins. All but Ginny wore guilty expressions and had their hands concealed behind their backs. A smile crept over Ginny's face, and she held a bottle out to Hermione. "It's been a long week. We're playing drinking games. Want to join?"

The other girls all looked at Ginny as if she were crazy, then looked back at Hermione apprehensively. "Drinking games, huh?" Hermione asked slowly. One hand reached up and brushed the prefect's badge on her lapel. The girls gulped nervously. Swiftly, Hermione whipped off her school robes and tossed them on her bed. "Hand me a glass please, Ginny," she requested as she took a seat next the other girl.

"You _drink_, Hermione?" Lavender gasped incredulously.

"Upon occasion, yes, I drink," Hermione responded as she took the glass that Ginny offered. Smiling at the shocked looks that Lavender, Parvati, and Demelza were giving her, she continued, "Not excessively, by any means. But when my school work is all done, and I have nowhere I need to be, sometimes I celebrate."

"Wow, I had no idea! I would have never guessed that _you_, of all people…" Parvati trailed off in amazement.

Ginny shot dark looks at the other girls. "What? You would have never guessed that Hermione is a normal human being who likes to do the same things that we do?"

Demelza spoke for the first time. "It's not that, it just caught us off guard. That's all. I, personally, didn't realize that you were able to find time for things like that, Hermione. It seems like every time I see you, you're doing school work, or prefect duties, or saving house elves."

"Well," Hermione started as she took a sip of her drink, "it _is_ hard to find time for it. That's why I don't go to parties much during the school year."

"But during the summer, it's a different story," Ginny continued. "Speaking of which, what was that game that the twins taught us last summer?"

"Umm… I'm trying to remember," Hermione answered. "Oh! It was called 'Never Have I Ever,' wasn't it?"

Ginny clapped her hands in delight. "That's it! It's really easy to play," she said to the rest of the group. "You sit in a circle and take turns saying something that you have never done. If somebody else in the group _has_ done what you've said, then they have to take a drink. You guys want to give it a try?" she asked.

The girls all shrugged and nodded. "I guess I'll go first, so you can see how it works. Hmm…" Ginny thought for a minute then said, "Wait, I almost forgot. Remember the parchment we signed last year for Dumbledore's Army? We should do something like that, to make sure that nobody can lie, and also that the things we share tonight stay between us only." She looked at Hermione. "Can you do that again?"

"No problem." Hermione went over to her nightstand and retrieved a piece of parchment and a quill. She quickly wrote the rules, and then waved her wand over it. "Okay, I put an enchantment on it that will make your… nether regions… burn horrifically if you break the rules."

The group looked rather grim at that description, but signed anyway. "There," Ginny murmured as she signed her name with a flourish. "I'll go ahead and begin, then. Never have I ever changed my hair color." Lavender and Hermione each took a drink.

"Are we supposed to explain our answers if we drink?" asked Lavender.

"You don't have to, no. But if it's a really interesting topic, we might ask you to elaborate a bit," Ginny said with a sly smile.

Hermione looked around. "It's my turn then?" Everyone else nodded. "All right. Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping."

This time, Demelza was the only one who drank. The rest of the group looked at her expectantly. "Fine," she said, giving in to their stares. "Last summer, I was on holiday with my family in France, and I went swimming. I met a boy from Durmstrang there, and somehow I ended up naked in the water with him."

"Did you sleep together?" Parvati asked.

Demelza smiled at her. "That has nothing to do with the game. I don't have to answer that."

Parvati smiled back. "Okay, Demelza. It's my turn anyway. Never have I ever had sex with someone from Durmstrang," she declared triumphantly. She was thrilled to discover that her assumption was correct, but what really caught everyone's attention was the fact that Hermione had taken a drink.

Once again, all eyes were trained on Hermione. She sighed and began to explain. "I lost my virginity to Viktor Krum at the end of fourth year. He was a skilled and considerate lover, and though the first time was a little awkward and painful, it got better after that."

Lavender interrupted the silence that followed Hermione's statement. "I'll just take my turn now. Never have I ever used mind-altering potions."

Ginny looked at her questioningly. "Yes, you have. You've used the Patented Daydream Charm from my brothers' shop, haven't you?" Lavender nodded. "What do you think _that_ is?"

"Oh," Lavender said thoughtfully. "I guess I'll take a drink then!" she laughed, tipping her glass up to her mouth. The other girls all laughed and took a drink with her.

A few moments later, they had settled back down, and were waiting for Demelza to take her turn. "Never have I ever slept with one of the Weasley boys," she said, beginning to snicker again at the appalled look on Ginny's face. Parvati joined in on the laughter when Lavender took a drink.

_Oh no._ Hermione tried to covertly sneak a sip out of her glass, but Ginny spotted her. "You _both_ slept with Ron?" she asked, a mixture of disgust and curiosity in her voice.

_Oh no._ "Umm… No, I never slept with Ron," Hermione muttered. _But Lavender apparently has_, she thought bitterly.

"You can't lie, remember, Hermione? You took a drink, and that means… Oh," Parvati trailed off as realization dawned on her. Peals of laughter rang out as the rest of the girls caught on.

"So, which one of my brothers _did_ you sleep with?" Ginny asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Hermione took another drink. She had a feeling she would need it. "It was George," she answered finally.

Demelza smiled appreciatively. "Do give details."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I want to know how it happened, but please _don't_ give details."

Draining her glass, Hermione looked at the group. Demelza and Parvati were waiting excitedly, Ginny sported a look of morbid curiosity, and Lavender appeared slightly relieved. "I'll tell you on one condition." The girls blinked at her. She sighed. "Can we quit playing this game? It's making me look like a tart."

"Sure, Hermione," Parvati said.

"Of course, Hermione," Ginny said.

"Whatever you want, Hermione," Demelza said.

"Now tell us the story!" Lavender demanded.

Hermione pressed her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them, the other girls were still staring at her in anticipation. "Fine," she relented. "The summer before this past summer, when we were staying at Grimmauld Place," she started, glancing at Ginny, "I was up late one night. I was reading in the library, and George came in. I guess he couldn't sleep either. He sat down with me and we talked for a bit, flirting a little. Then, he noticed the book that I had hidden inside the book that I was _pretending_ to read and…"

"Wait, what book were you reading?" asked Parvati.

"A muggle book called _The Guide to Getting it On_. It's about… You know, getting it on."

Lavender burst into laughter. "Of course you were reading a book about sex! Did you have it hidden inside _Hogwarts, A History_?"

Hermione grinned. "Actually, yes, I did."

Ginny chuckled and said, "How appropriate!"

"So, George saw the book, and asked to look at it. I let him, and after reading for awhile, he asked if I had any experience with the first part of chapter thirty-eight. I told him that I didn't, and he said that he didn't either. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, we were experiencing the first part of chapter thirty-eight together," Hermione concluded.

"What was the beginning of chapter thirty-eight about?" Demelza asked slowly.

Blushing, Hermione responded quietly, "Bondage."

Parvati shrieked and threw a pillow at her. "Hermione, you naughty thing! I'm starting to think that maybe you _are_ a tart!" she joked.

"Oh, stop it," Hermione exclaimed, throwing the pillow back. "I am _not_ a tart. I haven't had enough partners to be a tart! And besides, it's just that my view on sex is the same as my view on school."

"You have to know everything there is to know, and be the undisputed best?" Ginny supplied.

"Exactly. Now can we talk about how much of a tart somebody else is? Demelza, you never elaborated on your skinny-dipping story," Hermione prompted.

The girls turned their attention to Demelza as she began telling her story. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. _That__ was awkward. At least Malfoy never came up_, she thought gratefully. She shook her head to banish all thoughts of Malfoy, and fixed her attention on Demelza's story as well.


	8. My Hands Are Trembling

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 7 – My Hands Are Trembling**

Draco had only gone back to the Room of Requirement once in the weeks following his discovery of the room. He went once to verify that the Vanishing Cabinet was indeed stored there, and to attempt to figure out what exactly was broken. The majority of his free time was spent in the library, fruitlessly researching Vanishing Cabinets. The days crept by, and he found himself no closer to achieving his goal than he had since Granger had accidently shown him the room.

It was after a long deliberation of his situation that he decided to give Plan B a shot. In the best case scenario, it worked, and the Dark Lord would back the fuck off. In the worst case scenario, he was at least no farther behind on his task than he was before. With these thoughts in mind, he scrawled out a letter to Borgin and Burke's, and sent it off into the night with his owl.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, though with quite a bit of the chill that accompanied the transition into autumn. It was a Hogsmeade day, the first of the term, and the anticipation was audible at breakfast. The Great Hall buzzed with excitement around Draco as he sat in self-imposed solitude. The petulant expression on his face was deeper than usual, and even Pansy shied away from him that morning.

As soon as soon as the students were released from Filch's security checkpoint in the entrance hall, Draco slipped off. About halfway to Hogsmeade, Pansy finally caught up with him.

"Draco, wait!" she called, several long paces behind him.

He slowed his gait, and turned to her with a scowl. "What?"

Falling into step beside him, Pansy responded, "I thought you might like some company."

In fact, he did _not_ want company, but he knew Pansy was just trying to cheer him up. "Fine, but I have some things I need to do today, and I can't have you getting in the way."

"All right, just tell me when you need me to give you some space," she said, understanding immediately what his errands were related to. That was one of the things that he liked about Pansy—while she sometimes acted a little ditzy, she knew when to leave things be, for the most part.

They walked the rest of the way to Hogsmeade in comfortable silence. Once they arrived in the village, Draco turned to Pansy. "I need to go to The Three Broomsticks. You can come with me, or we can meet up later, it's up to you."

Pansy shrugged, and followed him to the old pub. They chose a table near the bar, and Draco ordered them each a butterbeer. After a few minutes of sipping their drinks, Draco interrupted Pansy's ramblings about her intended purchases from Honeydukes. "I'm going to use the washroom. I'll be back in a few minutes," he muttered, rising from the table.

He ambled toward the hallway slowly, considering what he was about to do. He had never used an Unforgivable Curse on another person, magical or not. His father had made him practice on insects and small animals after the Dark Lord returned, calling it "training." Though Draco had hoped at the time that it wasn't Death Eater training he was going through, he realized now that those hopes were in vain.

However, what he wanted didn't matter anymore. Being the Slytherin that he was, he knew that the wisest place, hypothetically, in the whole mess, was somewhere in the middle, not supporting one side over the other. Unfortunately, being the Slytherin that he was, he also knew that the wisest place, realistically, was wherever the Dark Lord wanted him. He wasn't ready to lose his mother, and he wasn't ready to lose himself.

Taking a deep breath and summoning all of his courage, he slipped quietly through the door marked "Three Broomsticks Staff Only." Noiselessly, he crept around a shelf and immediately spotted his target. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, pointed it at the woman in front of him, and whispered, "_Imperio_."

Instantly, her body went rigid. She turned on the spot, to look her new master in the eye. Draco pressed a coin into Madam Rosmerta's hand, explaining, "This is an enchanted galleon. I have its brother, and they can be used to pass undetected messages from a distance. Hopefully, today's task will go well, and we won't need to use them. But carry it with you, and if you feel it heat up, that means I've sent you a message. Do you understand me?" he queried, looking into her blank face. She nodded. "Good. There will be a package arriving for you today. Do not open it. Keep it wrapped, and see to it that Dumbledore receives the package."

She nodded once more. "All right, now go on with your work as usual." He turned and disappeared back out into the hallway. Leaning against the wall, he let out a guttural sigh. He had no qualms with talking down to scar-headed idiots and insulting their dead parents, but putting someone under the Imperius Curse was another thing entirely. _So this is what it feels like to be a complete piece of shit. I guess even __my__ family's money has its limits. _He allowed himself only a short moment of weakness, then his face hardened again as he pushed off from the wall and returned to his table.

Pansy's drink was nearly gone by the time he got back. She glanced up and smiled softly. "Is everything alright, Draco?"

"Everything's fine," he responded, downing his own butterbeer. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

She grabbed her jacket and stood. "Is there anywhere else you need to go?"

Draco shook his head. "No, let's go get those sugar quills you wanted from Honeydukes."

Nodding in agreement, she led the out of the pub. Once outside, she turned around to look at Draco. "Hey. I'm sure you don't want to discuss… things… with me, but I'm here for you. I mean, if you just need to be around someone who won't ask questions. That's all," she finished awkwardly.

"I appreciate it, Pansy. You're right, I don't really want to talk about it, but it's nice to have some company." Draco decided that what he said was true—he did want her company for the day. She was a welcome distraction from worrying about his mum, Voldemort, and the fear that he was turning into his father. "Now come on, let's go to Honeydukes."

They spent the afternoon together, strolling through the slush-filled streets of Hogsmeade, occasionally ducking into a shop that looked interesting. The ferocious gnawing in Draco's gut had dwindled to a slight pang by the end of the day, and they made the journey back to Hogwarts contentedly.

The peaceful atmosphere was broken, however, when they reached the entrance hall of the school. It was pandemonium—teachers loomed in every corner, trying to calm the panicked student body. Draco and Pansy looked at each other in confusion.

"What's going on?" Pansy murmured.

_There was no way that I pulled off Plan B so smoothly. Surely, the chaos isn't because I succeed in killing Dumbledore so easily?_ Glancing around quickly, he realized that McGonagall had just swept into the entrance hall, ordering students to clear out. "I don't know what's going on," he said, narrowing his eyes. "But I'm going to find out."

Draco's hand flicked out and grabbed a third-year Slytherin he knew only by face. "What is this all about?" he demanded.

The third-year cowered in front of the notorious Draco Malfoy. "A girl, some- some Gryffindor," he stammered. "She was cursed!"

_Oh no. Please tell me this isn't my fault. Please tell me that some innocent girl wasn't cursed because of me._ "Who was it? How was she cursed?" Draco spat.

Looking back and forth between Pansy's shocked expression and Draco's furious one, the boy choked out, "It was a cursed necklace. I don't know the girl's name, just that she's friends with the Weasleys."

_Fuck. Bloody fuck. Please tell me I didn't kill Granger._ He released the younger boy and watched him run off. Turning to Pansy, he said stonily, "I have to go. I'll see you back in the common room later." Without waiting for a response, he dashed up the marble staircase, concerned only with finding out if Granger was okay. He didn't pause to ask himself why he cared, or if he would be so frantic if somebody else had been hurt. He ran toward the hospital wing, not stopping once.

The doors to the hospital wing were guarded by Professor Flitwick. "I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, but unless you're injured, I cannot allow you entrance," the tiny teacher warned as Draco approached the end of the corridor.

"But…" Draco gasped out, slowing to a walk. "But I need to…"

"But nothing," Flitwick declared. "If you are healthy, then you must leave now."

"Just tell me—Granger isn't hurt, is she?" he asked.

Flitwick stared at him, baffled. "No, Miss Granger is fine. She's probably in her common room, worrying about Katie Bell with the rest of her house. You would do well to return to your own common room."

Fixing his teacher with a scowl, Draco turned and headed back down the corridor. _Granger's fine. She wasn't the one who was cursed_, he thought with relief. _It's still awful of course, that an innocent girl was hurt because of my actions, but at least it wasn't Granger_. Finally registering the fact that he was concerned about the Mudblood's well-being, he tried to convince himself that it was because she was such a luscious fuck.

_It would be a pity to see those ripe lips unmoving. For her eyes to be closed, and not clouded over with lust for her enemy. For the body that was just begging to be fucked to be draped motionlessly across a bed without a mirror above it. Yes, it would be most unfortunate if my favorite shag had been rendered out-of-commission, especially from my own carelessness._ Finally able to explain away the knot of anxiety that had resided in his chest since he had returned to the school, he pointed his feet in the direction of the dungeons, ready to join the rest of his house for the evening.

_Author's Note: I know, I know, you wanted something longer and smuttier, right? I'm sorry, but you'll get some here in a little bit. I'm actually surprised that I was able to do any writing at all this week—__Twilight__ has kind of taken over my life… ____ Also, if you haven't already, check out my oneshot titled "A Bit of Late Night Learning." It's a companion piece to Chapter 6 of this story._


	9. Hideous Chameleon

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 8 – Hideous Chameleon**

As soon as Harry departed for his meeting with Professor Dumbledore the following Monday night, Hermione and Ron exchanged a look of relief. All weekend long, Harry prattled on and on about how Malfoy was a Death Eater, and Malfoy cursed Katie Bell, and Malfoy this, and Malfoy that… It was getting old. After another half hour of studying, Hermione excused herself to make her rounds for the evening.

The corridors were all but empty, as it was nearing nine o' clock, and she was able to let her mind drift, considering all that had happened over the past weekend. Katie Bell was in St. Mungo's because she had been cursed by a necklace. Nobody knew where it came from, or where it was supposed to have been going. Harry thought that Malfoy bought it from Borgin and Burke's, and gave it to Katie. Professor McGonagall said that Malfoy had spent the day in detention with her, because he had missed several Transfiguration assignments, but something wasn't adding up.

Hermione was almost certain that she had seen Malfoy leaving Honeyduke's with Pansy Parkinson on Saturday. But how could he have been in Hogsmeade if he was with McGonagall? It was possible that it wasn't Malfoy that she had seen; the boy had his hood drawn, making it impossible to identify him by his platinum hair. And what about the neglected Transfiguration homework? As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Malfoy was a good student, and had grades that nearly rivaled her own when he applied himself. She knew that he wasn't skipping school work because he was struggling with it. And normally, it seemed like he worked very hard in school, probably trying to meet impossible standards set by his parents. Maybe with his father in Azkaban, the younger Malfoy no longer cared so much about impressing them.

_That seems like a reasonable possibility_, she thought as she began climbing the staircase outside the Great Hall. _And if I didn't really see him in Hogsmeade, then nothing strange is going on._ She sighed in frustration as she realized that Harry's paranoia regarding Malfoy seemed to be rubbing off on her. "What an obnoxious git!" she hissed under her breath.

"Talking about me, Granger?" a voice called from an open doorway.

Hermione whipped around to face the sound, taking a defensive stance. She stuck her hand into her pocket and grasped her wand, just in case.

Malfoy stepped out of the shadows, brandishing a licorice wand. "_Expellianus!_" he declared, a big grin on his face.

"_Expelli__anus_? What kind of a spell is _that_?" Hermione asked condescendingly.

Malfoy chuckled as he leaned against the wall. "Just a little incantation I came up with. It's a disarming spell… For your opponent's anus."

"For your opponent's…" she repeated slowly. Then comprehension dawned on her. "Oh! It makes you…defecate…on yourself?" A disgusted look crept onto her face.

Laughing, he responded, "Yes. Came up with it during fourth year. It seemed terribly funny at the time," he said thoughtfully. "Though it still holds its amusement now, from time to time." A slight note of nostalgia had settled into his voice.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "Well, I hate to break up your rather disturbing little trip down memory lane, but I have my rounds to finish." She took a couple steps forward, intending to continue her prefect duties.

"Wait for me—I'm on rounds tonight too. Maybe if it gets too boring, we could liven things up a little bit." Malfoy began doing inappropriate things to his licorice wand with his tongue. Hermione slapped it out of his hand. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Never mind that, there's plenty more where that came from." He reached into his robe and pulled out another licorice wand.

"How many of those do you have in there?" Hermione asked curiously after a minute.

Malfoy began pulling different kinds of sweets out of his pockets. "Well, I have only two more licorice wands, but I also have a pack of sugar quills, a few cauldron cakes, and a chocolate frog. Want anything?"

She hesitated, then, "Sure, I guess I'll take a licorice wand. Why do you have all of this anyway?"

He handed her a wand and put the rest back into his robes. "To be honest, I have a bit of a sweet tooth. I don't normally carry that much around though, I just haven't emptied my pockets from Saturday."

"You got that all in Hogsmeade?" she asked, a frown on her face. _Maybe he was there, after all._

"That's correct. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, I just thought I heard something about you having detention with McGonagall on Saturday, that's all." She glanced quickly at him out of the corner of her eye.

Chuckling, he responded, "I did. I just found a way to be two places at once."

Comprehension dawned on her a second time. "Polyjuice Potion?" she guessed. He nodded, still smiling.

"Why?"

Malfoy started laughing again. "Would you rather be in Hogsmeade, or would you rather be in detention?"

"Hogsmeade, obviously," Hermione answered slowly.

"That's how I felt. Would you believe it if I told you that some people were willing to serve detentions for other students, for the right price?" he asked rhetorically.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione muttered, "Sure, with you, I'd believe it." _So he __had__ been in Hogsmeade, but he has a somewhat reasonable explanation for it. _If she had the money, and happened to be a devious Slytherin like Malfoy, Hermione might have paid somebody to serve her detentions for her.

They walked in silence for awhile after that. Hermione immediately began processing the conversation she'd just had with Malfoy. It had been civil. Friendly even. _Weird. Were we joking with each other?_ She shook her head to jar those thoughts loose. _It is slightly ironic, I must admit, that at a time when Harry hates Malfoy more than ever, I'm starting to get along with him._ What had changed? _I'll tell you what changed—Harry became a paranoid mess who relies on a sketchy old textbook to get him through Potions!_

"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked, stopping. Apparently he had noticed Hermione's scowl.

She stopped next to him. "Nothing," she sighed. "I'm just a little stressed out, you know?"

Malfoy donned his trademark smirk. "I can take care of that stress for you." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the first doorway they came to.

Staring dubiously at him, she asked, "What did you have in mind?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "What are you _doing_?" she squealed as he stalked into the room with her.

Throwing her down on an old couch, he pulled his wand to light the lamps. The room was smaller than one of their classrooms. There was another couch and a few armchairs nearby, while the other half of the room was occupied by circular tables. _Must be an old lounge of some sort_, Hermione surmised. Her attention turned back to Malfoy as he sat down next to her.

"What are you doing?" she asked again.

"Relieving your stress," Malfoy finally answered.

"How?"

Again, he didn't answer. Leaning slowly toward her, he pinned her arms down with his hands. She closed her eyes, and a second later, she could feel his lips lightly brushing against her collarbone. She shivered as his warm breath tickled her neck in a very pleasing fashion. Relaxing into his touch, she thought, _This might just what I need…_

He released her arms from his grasp, and a moment later she felt his hands gently sliding up her legs. Pushing her skirt up around her waist, he pulled her panties down slowly. She sighed disappointedly as his lips broke contact with her skin, only to gasp with delight when she found them replaced on her thigh.

Her eyes fluttered open when she realized that he was kissing his way up her leg. She studied his movements for a few moments, and then she threw her head back suddenly as his mouth found its destination.

Dimly, she made the correct observation that Draco Malfoy was going down on her, completely unsolicited. She snickered slightly, only to interrupt herself with a low moan, caused by his ministrations.

She watched him work through a cloud of lust, appreciating the way he dragged his tongue across her most sensitive areas. He looked up to meet her gaze, and stuck his finger into his mouth. She gasped as he slid it into her, still tending to her with his mouth.

Meeting his thrusts, she bucked her hips against him slightly, riding his hand and pressing herself into his mouth more fully. After a few minutes of mounting passion, her entire body shuddered, and then she found herself drooping into the couch, breathless.

"So did it work?"

Hermione looked up, and Malfoy was eying her smugly. Still trying to catch her breath, she managed, "Huh."

He snorted. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" He leaned back as well, giving Hermione a chance to recover.

A moment later, Hermione said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I have the energy to return the favor right now."

Shrugging, Malfoy replied, "That's all right. I'll take a rain check. I've got to be going now, anyway. Later, Granger." He jumped up, and disappeared through the door before she could even realize what was happening.

Hermione sat in a daze. _Malfoy just got me off, and ran. What a complete oddball._ She shook her head in confusion. _That was…nice…though. Okay, who am I kidding, that was bloody amazing!_ Her eyes flickered around the room, and she spied what she was searching for on the floor nearby. She retrieved her knickers, and pulled them back on slowly.

Taking a quick peek at her watch, she found that it was already past ten o' clock. Harry would be back from his meeting with Dumbledore soon, if he wasn't already, and she wanted to know what had transpired. She crept to the door, and peered out. The corridor was empty. Turning her wand on the room behind her, she muttered, "_Nox_," and then she took off down the corridor, smoothing her skirt down as she went.


	10. Incisions Must Be Accurate

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 9 – Incisions Must Be Accurate**

If Draco cared to be honest, he would admit to himself that his latest rendezvous with Granger had been fueled by a combination of guilt and something else unidentifiable. However, Draco did _not_ care to be honest with himself. Rather, he justified his actions as one more step in his manipulations of the Mudblood. By giving in to her and asking for nothing in return, not only did he reaffirm his status of Sexy Beast, but he also managed to gain some of her trust.

He blatantly disregarded the slight stirring in his chest when he remembered the mildly dazed grin she had given him after the fact.

Little headway was made regarding the Vanishing Cabinet, despite long hours spent combing through books in the library and numerous attempts at tinkering with the object itself. That combined with the disaster of the opal necklace made Draco realize that his situation was not improving as quickly as he would have liked. He was tired and frustrated, and he was getting behind both in his schoolwork and in Quidditch—two things he had always excelled in.

It was nearing the end of October, and Draco was somewhat concerned with the dismal amount of progress he had made toward his goal, but he tried to remain focused on the task at hand. With his plans at a standstill for the time being, Draco decided to allow himself some processing time. He would spend the next several weeks brainstorming, observing, and analyzing everything around him, and with any luck, things would become clearer to him.

He sat at breakfast the morning after relieving Granger's stress, trying to ignore his own mounting tension. Taking a few deep breaths, he scanned the Great Hall, not sure what he was looking for. His eyes settled on Dumbledore. The old wizard had returned from wherever he had been, and sat in his usual spot at the teacher's table. Though it was not the first time that Draco had noticed Dumbledore's blackened hand, it was the first time that Draco bothered to invest any thought in it. It was a mystery as to how the hand ended up like that, but Draco tucked away a mental picture of the charred fingers, in case it could help later on.

Unconsciously, his eyes drifted to the table on the far side of the hall. Granger sat with her stupid little boyfriends, which was no surprise. What was surprising were the anxious looks that Granger and Weasley kept giving the Boy Wonder. Also surprising was the flush that expanded across every exposed inch of Weasley's skin when Granger's hand accidently brushed against his. Before Draco realized it, a small growl had escaped his throat in response. Was it…jealousy? _Of course it's jealousy, the Mudblood is my territory now. That ginger douchebag had better stay away from her. _He glanced at Granger, only to realize that she was staring back at him with a curious glint in her eye. Winking slyly, he began scanning the room again.

Returning to the teacher's table, Draco was unprepared to have yet another set of eyes gazing back at him. Dumbledore stared at Draco for a long second, seeming to see everything inside his mind, before turning back to his conversation with McGonagall as if nothing had happened. Even though Draco was rather skilled at Occlumency, and he knew that Dumbledore hadn't attempted to pry into his thoughts, he still felt a jolt of adrenaline rush through his body as the eye contact broke.

_Those are the eyes of the man whose life I'm supposed to take._ Dumbledore had never actually done anything to upset Draco, other than not being impressed by his family, and clearly favoring Potter. Both things annoyed Draco to no end, but still weren't enough to merit a punishment of death. _But… Mum_.

Closing his eyes, Draco pictured Dumbledore's face staring back into his own, just as it had a few seconds before. In that moment, Draco knew that he would have to find some way to kill Dumbledore that didn't involve being face to face. Draco knew that he couldn't cast the killing curse at the old man. Putting Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius curse had made him feel sick to his stomach, and the thought of using another Unforgivable was not a pleasant one.

The cursed necklace idea, though flawed, had been a more tolerable course of action, at least as far as Draco was concerned. He still had Madam Rosmerta under his spell—perhaps he could find a way to utilize her somehow. Filing that information away as well, Draco went back to his observations.

The remainder of breakfast proved to be mostly uneventful, with two exceptions. The first was that Snape seemed to be keeping a scrutinizing eye on Draco, though it was very subtle. Draco probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been so keenly watching the room himself, and he wondered dimly how long Snape had been watching him. The other exception was that Pothead also appeared to be sneaking furtive glances at Draco throughout the meal. He brushed that off; Potter wasn't much of a threat.

Days passed, and Draco gleaned small bits of information here and there, but he had yet to assemble it all into something useful. He just continued to dissect everything, waiting for some answers to emerge from the cacophony of jumbled thoughts that were crammed into his head.

A week and a half later, Draco was sick of waiting for answers. He sat at a table in the corner of the Slytherin common room, parchment spread all around him. It was late, and only a few other students remained, Pansy included. Removing a fresh bottle of ink from his bag, Draco stared down at the pages of notes on the table in front of him. He had written down every observation he had made since the necklace incident, and consolidated items that shared a common theme.

Squinting down at the sheets of parchment, he realized that he needed some sort of organizational system if he wanted to make any sense of his notes. Shuffling the pages around, he finally settled on arranging them in chronological order. He read through them again, highlighting items of particular importance.

"Hey."

Draco looked up to see Pansy standing next to him. The common room had cleared out, and they were the only two left. Pansy began pulling out a chair slowly, as a silent question. Draco nodded in response and went back to his notes, while Pansy took the seat on his right.

"Anything I can help you with?" she asked quietly after a minute.

He gestured to his notes. "This is everything. I need to figure out what to do next. I can't afford to fail this mission. The stakes are too high. But the more I search for answers, the harder it seems to get," he sighed.

Pansy leaned forward in her seat. "May I?" she asked. Not waiting for Draco's approval, she began skimming the notes laid out in front of her. As she finished up, she said, "There's a lot here to work with. It just needs to be put together in a way that makes sense as it pertains to your goal."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Draco.

"That's very true. But you've got a really good start with all of this, and if I help you sift through it all, I'm sure we can come up with something," Pansy reasoned.

Draco sized her up. "This really isn't your problem, you know."

Pansy leaned closer to him. "I know. But I can't stand by and watch you try to save your mum all by yourself, especially when I know that I can help you."

"Thanks," he murmured.

Reaching for a clean piece of parchment and the quill, she began writing. "I think we should make a list of your options. I'm starting with things that you've already done. Then we can add things that you plan to try, and after that, we can come up with new ideas."

"Well, there was the necklace, to start. And my attempts with the Vanishing Cabinet. Plus, Madam Rosmerta is still under the Imperius," Draco dictated.

She finished writing a moment later. "All right. Do you have any other ideas?" Pansy inquired.

Shaking his head, he slumped back in his seat. "It's like I told you, the harder I try to come up with something, the more impossible it seems."

Pansy stared down at her parchment for a second, and then started to snicker. "You could always just sneak up on the old man and Avada him when he's not looking."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Wow, why didn't I think of that?"

"Haven't you ever heard that the simplest solution is often the best?" Pansy countered.

"Fine, add it to the 'Last Resort' section of your little list, then."

She smiled as she added it. "Well, if you don't want to just do it outright, then you should probably do something more covertly. Like the necklace, only planned better."

He nodded, thinking about the flaws in the necklace plan. "If I were to have something sent to Dumbledore again, it would have to be something that would get past all of Filch's security checks," he mused.

Pansy wrote that down. "Any other ideas?"

"Yes. It would have to be something that would go directly to him, without much danger of being exposed to somebody else in the meantime," Draco said firmly.

"Okay," Pansy muttered as she scrawled across the page. "Can you think of anything that meets that criteria?"

Draco was silent for a few long moments, waiting for something to surface. "No, not at the moment. You?"

She shook her head. "Sorry."

"I suppose all there is for me to do right now is to keep observing, and keep working on the Vanishing Cabinet," he said finally.

Smiling sympathetically, she handed him the notes she had made. "I suppose you're right."

_Author's Note: I hate to do this to those of you who have been enthusiastically following this story (thanks, by the way), but I can't promise an update next week. I've got a busy week ahead of me, including… Wrockstock 2008! Woo hoo! Unfortunately, I don't know if I will have Chapter 10 ready by next Monday. Definitely expect it the following week, though. If you're bored in the meantime, check out my Favorite lists on my profile._


	11. There's a Spot on the Floor

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 10 – There's a Spot on the Floor**

Hermione felt like an idiot. She had invited Ron to be her date to Slughorn's Christmas party for a number of reasons, and they all seemed completely irrelevant now. It was no secret that Ron was jealous of the fact that his two best friends were members of the "Slug Club," while he was left out. It was also no secret that Hermione and Ron had shared an unspoken mutual attraction for one another since at least third year. It _was_ a secret, however, that Hermione had felt slightly guilty about her strange relationship with Malfoy.

But no, not a single one of those reasons mattered to her anymore. Not after watching Ron and Lavender try to swallow each other's tongues in the middle of the common room. Certainly not after Ron and Lavender had burst into the classroom she was attempting to hide in, apparently looking for somewhere more _private._

If anything was clear to Hermione, it was the fact that Ron didn't give a damn about her. She had always been there for him, helping him with his schoolwork, standing up for him to others, Confunding McLaggen at the Quidditch tryouts, and trying to include him in Slughorn's party. The only time she had ever intentionally done something to upset him was when she had accepted Viktor Krum's invitation to the Yule Ball. And that was only after Ron had neglected to ask her himself. Though her relationship with Viktor had progressed, she had kept it a secret from Ron, not wanting to hurt him. Those were lines not to be crossed, at least in her mind. It appeared that Ron did not share those same boundaries.

_If Ron doesn't care to be discreet with his affairs, maybe I shouldn't bother either!_ A glorious vision of being amorously pinned to a wall by Draco Malfoy, her legs around his waist and hands tangled in his hair, as Ron watched in shock and disbelief entered her mind. Hermione allowed herself a brief malicious grin at that image. _Wouldn't it be great if I could flaunt in front of him the fact that I've been sleeping with the person he hates more than anybody?_ she thought wistfully. _But that's a can of worms I'm not willing to open, and I'm sure Malfoy agrees._

She sighed, and for the first time since she had hexed Ron and stormed out of the classroom, she stopped to look where she was going. Her feet had unwittingly led her to the seventh floor. The Room of Requirement was just around the corner and down the corridor. _That's it. I can blow off some steam in the Room of Requirement, and I don't have to worry about Ron and Lavender interrupting._

Setting her face in determination, she marched purposefully toward the Room of Requirement. _I need a place to be alone. I need a place to be alone. I need a place to be alone_, she thought, concentrating on the wall next to her. Nothing happened.

Hermione glanced behind her, confirming that the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was in fact across from the section of wall she was facing. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion as she began pacing again. _I need a place to be alone. I need a place to be alone. I need a place to be alone._

Looking up expectantly, she saw…the wall. She stamped her foot and let out a little shriek in frustration. Slowly, her resolve faded, and she slid down the wall, crumpling into a ball next to the tapestry. Staring at the wall where the door should have been, she felt her eyes well up with tears.

With her head buried in her arms, she didn't notice when the door appeared across from her, and a figure emerged from it. She didn't notice when the figure stopped in front of her, staring. She didn't even notice when the figure drew a wand, and pointed it at her.

_Author's Note: I know, it's super short __and__ a cliff-hanger. Don't hate me, please! I'll make up for it next chapter!_


	12. Her Beauty So Illogical

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 11 – Her Beauty So Illogical**

Popping a Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Bean into his mouth, Draco began the climb back up to the seventh floor. _Bacon… Not bad_, he thought as he chewed. He'd just snuck into the library to retrieve the most helpful book he had found so far: _Enchanting Home Decorating for the Classy Witch_. It had an entire chapter on Vanishing Cabinets. Tragically, in most of the illustrations, flowery garlands adorned every edge of the Cabinets, but the information was valuable nonetheless. Valuable enough that Draco had left Crabbe in the Room of Requirement to hold his place while he claimed the book.

_I hope that imbecile managed to keep himself out of trouble for the ten minutes in which I was gone. Though I ought not to count on it._ As Draco rounded the corner to the proper corridor, he was presented with a sight that supported his lack of faith in Crabbe. Granger was curled up on the floor, apparently sobbing into her arm, while Crabbe stood in front of her, wand arm raised.

"Well, well, well… What have we here? The Mudblood's about to get attacked, and she's too busy snotting all over herself to even notice," Draco called down the hall, his mind kicking into Slytherin mode automatically.

Crabbe turned to acknowledge him, and Granger finally looked up and realized the situation she was in. "I just stepped into the hall to see if you were coming, and I found Potter's little bitch, crying her ugly face off," Crabbe announced, cackling.

"At least I'm not an inbred baboon with an IQ smaller than his wand," Granger retorted through her tears. Crabbe looked slightly baffled by her comment. "I'm calling you an idiot, in case you didn't understand that," she clarified.

Resisting a snicker at Crabbe's expense, Draco made eye contact with him. "Thank you for detaining Granger. This should provide me with some entertainment. You are dismissed from your duties tonight; I'd like some alone time with the Mudblood."

Giving him a knowing glance, Crabbe responded, "Not ready to perform in front of an audience?"

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Not yet." He watched as Crabbe disappeared around the corner, and then he turned to face Granger. She was staring back at him with an unreadable expression. He waited for her to break the silence.

"Thank you," she said quietly, the same perplexing look still on her face. He nodded curtly, his eyes piercing hers. She seemed to be debating something in her head.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked her finally.

Granger stood up suddenly. "I'm fine," she declared. "Can we…?" She gestured at the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

"Sure," he responded slowly. Granger made the door appear, and then turned around to face Draco, grinning slyly. It was a complete turnaround from her previous demeanor. _What the hell is going on here?_ he wondered.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

He hesitated slightly, and then followed her into the Room of Requirement. Suddenly, Granger spun around, and Draco found himself pressed into the wall. He stared down at her, waiting for her next move.

"I've had a terrible evening," Granger announced.

Draco's eyes flitted around the room, observing the sultry bedroom from before. His gaze returned to her as he responded, "Oh, have you now?"

She grabbed his green and silver tie and tugged on it, bringing his face down to her own. "Yes. I have."

_I like where this is going_. "Let's see what we can do to change that, shall we?"

"We shall." Granger jerked on his tie, and led him across the room to the sex swing. She gestured toward it. "Get in."

Draco took a step forward, and he felt his clothing fall from his body. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Granger grinning at him, wand in hand. He clambered into the swing, adjusting the straps that held his legs. Once he was situated, he looked up at Granger. She was pacing around, examining his nude, suspended body. "So," he began huskily, "what are you going to do to me?"

Shrugging out of her school robes, she took a step toward him. "What do you _want_ me to do to you?"

"An entire list of things comes to mind." _A very __long__ list._

"Can you share with me some of the items on your list?" Granger asked as she began loosening her Gryffindor tie.

"I…" he started, but trailed off as Granger pulled off her tie and tossed it on the floor. "Why don't you surprise me?"

She smiled the same coy smile from before. "Yes," she agreed. "I will surprise you." Her fingers worked the buttons on her blouse as she moved closer to him. She stepped out of her shoes and slid her skirt down over her hips in one fluid motion.

Granger stood in front of Draco, clad only in her bra and knickers. He took a moment to admire her figure. Her undergarments were matching: light pink, and edged in lace. _Sexy and feminine, yet subtle. How appropriate._ Draco grinned appreciatively. His gaze followed her as she carefully approached him. Then she did the last thing he expected. Granger sank to the floor, sitting between his thighs.

"Surprise," she murmured just before she took his length into her mouth. Draco gasped at the sudden feeling of her tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. They fell into a rhythm after a few minutes, and he relaxed into the swing, only to be surprised once again, this time by Granger's hand pumping his shaft without pausing in her oral ministrations.

It was official. He was receiving the best blow job of his life from the girl he had thought to be least likely to give _anyone_ a blow job, much less himself. "That feels so fucking amazing, Granger," he managed.

Glancing up at him, she grinned slightly around his cock. Then she closed her free hand around his testicles, kneading and tugging slightly. A moment more was all it took to undo Draco. Groans erupted from his throat as his orgasm hit. Granger's concentration didn't break, and she rode through his release with him.

After he settled back into the swing to catch his breath, she turned away to collect her clothes. He quietly released himself from his bonds, and crept up behind her as she was starting to pull her skirt back on. "Where do you think you're going?"

"What?" she asked, startled.

Draco smirked at her. "I'm not done with you yet. Nowhere near done." He scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, walking her over the bed. Depositing her on top of the soft blankets, he crawled up her body and began what would end up being a very _thorough_ repayment session for the surprise she had just given him.


	13. The Rising Sun

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 12**

A single beam of light had moved its way up Hermione's figure, and was now threatening to cast itself upon her face. She shifted, and the aforementioned shaft of light began its attack on her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open in response, and she set herself up on her elbows.

"Oh," she murmured, taking in her surroundings. She was not in her bed in the girls' dormitory. She wasn't even in Gryffindor Tower. The events of the previous night came flooding back to her. _The Quidditch match. Ron sucking on Lavender's face. Me sucking on…_

"Malfoy!" she gasped, her gaze meeting with the form next to her in the bed. In sleep, he looked innocent as could be, especially with his light hair splayed out around his head like a halo. Hermione snorted ungracefully. _Angelic, my arse!_ Letting her eyes linger on him for a moment, she basked in the warmth of the rising sun and memories of last night.

After a brief meditation, she sighed and pushed herself out of bed. As she began collecting her clothing from around the room, she noticed that it was later than she had initially thought. _What will people think when they realize that I never made it back to the tower last night? An excuse, I need an excuse…_ Her heart sank as it occurred to her that she could probably just say that she fell asleep in the library, and nobody would bother to question it. _No one would ever assume that I had been doing anything interesting at all… Though perhaps it's for the best anyway._

Pulling on her rumpled skirt, Hermione glanced around for her tie. The tip of it peeked out from underneath Malfoy's trousers. She groaned inwardly as she liberated it from its hiding place. As she tied it around her neck, she realized that it smelled of him. A clean, crisp, masculine scent met with her nostrils. There was a hint of leather and sweat mixed in with the odor of some expensive cologne. _Probably the wizarding equivalent of Armani or something_, she surmised. She inhaled again. It was heavenly. _Ugh, there I go again, comparing him to something ethereal. I have to stop that._

Something sounded behind her. Hermione froze. Slowly, she turned around. Malfoy was shifting in his sleep. He wrapped his arms around a pillow and murmured softly into it, "Mmm… Granger…" Hermione's eyes widened. She stood staring for a moment, and then, grabbing her robes off of the floor, she made a beeline for the door. She made haste down the corridor and down the stairs. It occurred to her then that she could still catch the end of breakfast, so she headed toward the Great Hall.

Only the sound of voices filtering out of the Great Hall and echoing up the marble staircase was able to slow her pace. Taking one final glance down to make sure her clothing was at least somewhat presentable, she marched into the Great Hall resolutely. Everyone at the Gryffindor table was so engrossed in their breakfast that she was able to slip into a spot between Ginny and Harry without catching much attention.

"Good morning," she announced as a general salutation.

"'Morning, Hermione," responded Harry. "What time did you make it back to Gryffindor last night? I didn't see you before I went to bed."

Hermione hesitated, and Lavender spoke up from next to Ron. "She didn't."

"You didn't come back last night? What happened? Are you alright?" Harry questioned, a crease forming in his brow, and concern filling his green eyes.

Lavender giggled as Ron nuzzled what was apparently a ticklish spot on her neck. Hermione gagged on the bacon she had just taken a bite of. After clearing her throat, she started, "Oh… It's nothing to worry about, Harry…"

"Yeah, she probably just fell asleep in the library or something," interjected Ron.

"Doing next month's homework," Lavender snickered.

Sighing dejectedly, Hermione said, "Yes. I fell asleep in the library."

Harry looked relieved. "So you're alright, then?" he asked quietly.

Hermione forced herself to meet his eyes. "I'm fine, Harry. But thank you, really." Turning then to the plate in front of her, she picked at her eggs until she felt Harry's gaze subside. She deeply appreciated his concern, but she had no desire to tell him that instead of studying in the library, she had actually been rage-fucking Draco Malfoy because she was jealous of Ron and Lavender. _That__ would go over so very well_, she thought, shaking her head, as if to drive away the unpleasant thought.

"You fell asleep in the library, huh?" a soft voice whispered in her ear.

She looked up, startled. It was Ginny. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well," Ginny began, "the mark on you neck tells me a different story." She gestured toward the area just above Hermione's collarbone, and waited expectantly.

Reflexively, Hermione's eyes widened as she put her hand over her neck. "The mark on my… I have a mark on my neck?"

Ginny looked amused. "You sure do. And if I didn't know better, I'd say it was a hickey. But since you were in the library studying all night, I'm sure it's just from sleeping in an awkward position on top of a book." She paused, using her cocked eyebrow to tell Hermione that she held no stock in that theory. "Unless, of course, you weren't sleeping on top of something, but rather someone," she said, emphasizing the last word.

"Don't be silly, Ginny," Hermione said after a long pause.

"Am I being silly?" Ginny asked frankly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Ginny studied her friend's expression for a moment. "Fine. I'll let it go," she said, getting up from the table. "For now."

Hermione watched Ginny's retreating back morosely. _Great. I'm going to have to start being more discreet about these meetings with Malfoy._ She nibbled on a piece of toast for a moment, until she finally registered the thought that had just passed through her head. _Am I acknowledging that this is, and will continue to be, a regular thing? What am I doing? What kind of bizarre relationship is this? Are we fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? No, that implies that we're friends. Well, we're not really enemies anymore, I guess. But friends? Definitely not. What the hell am I doing?_

Taking a hiatus from her mental analysis, she watched Ron and Lavender for a moment. Lavender was tucked up under Ron's arm, and Ron grinned down at her goofily. Hermione's nose wrinkled in distaste. _What I'm doing is having fun. I'm doing something that I want to do and I like it, damn it! I shouldn't be bothered by this. I'm nearly of age. I'm nearly an adult. All of my life, I've worried about what other people expect of me. It's time to accept the fact that it's okay for me to do things just for me, just because it makes me feel good. _She smiled to herself.

She resumed her breakfast in a much better mood. A few minutes later, she was finished. Rising from her spot at the table, she bid farewell to her friends. Harry spared her one last concerned glance, and she smiled reassuringly at him as she walked away. Hermione made her way to the exit, daydreaming of the hot bath she was going take as soon as she got back to Gryffindor Tower.

Stepping into the entrance hall, the eerie sensation of being watched immediately washed over her. Malfoy was descending the marble staircase, apparently on his way to breakfast. She froze and stared back. His eyes never broke contact with hers as he strutted his way across the hall. Hermione decided to take a risk. She grinned suggestively at him as he passed her. Malfoy started, but recovered quickly. He winked in return, and disappeared into the Great Hall.

Exhaling loudly, she shook her head and headed up the stairs toward her much anticipated bath.


	14. The Weak Link

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 13**

Draco found himself falling into a sort of a routine over the next several weeks. Eat, sleep, try to kill the headmaster, fuck Granger… Pretty typical stuff for a sixth-year at Hogwarts, really. He snorted. _Who the hell am I kidding? Things are completely fucked up!_

Yet, as fucked up as everything was, he couldn't deny that he found an odd sense of comfort in the monotony of it all. For the first time since the Dark Lord's return, Draco had stability in his life. Fucked up stability, but stability nonetheless. The prefect schedule had him on rounds with Granger twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday nights, and the end of the evening usually found them breathless and covered in a sweaty sheen, lounging in the bedroom version of the Room of Requirement. It didn't take long for them to begin meeting on Saturday nights too, the wait between Thursday and Tuesday being too long for either of them.

Whenever they weren't otherwise occupied by attending class or meeting for a midnight rendezvous, they were both in the library, though for different reasons. Granger was there with Potter, apparently still avoiding Weasley, and Draco was maniacally pouring over book after book, looking for the perfect murder.

It was nearing Christmas break, and the stress was beginning to take its toll on Draco. Almost half the year had passed, and he was no closer to killing Dumbledore than he had been at the start of the term. Every spare moment was spent desperately trying to complete the Dark Lord's task. Draco was losing sleep, his grades were slipping, and he was even ducking out on Quidditch. It was getting bad. Not oops-I-let-the-milk-expire bad, but oops-I'm-about-to-get-my-entire-family-AK'ed-by-a-psychopath-without-a-nose bad. To be sure, his meetings with Granger were about the only thing holding him together, which was a fact that was no more reassuring to him than the idea of his mother being subject to the Dark Lord's every whim.

There was no doubt about it, Draco Malfoy was falling apart.

The week before Christmas, Draco spent more time in the library than he had during his entire first year at Hogwarts. By Thursday, he was so tweaked out from lack of sleep and abuse of Pepper-Up potions that he was developing an embarrassing twitch in his left eye. He was skulking about in the stacks, searching for any book that might help him with his task, and trying not to let his non-twitchy eye wander over to the table where Granger and Potter sat. He was accomplishing the latter with a reasonable amount of success, at least until he heard Potter utter his name.

"…Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school --?"

Moving a bit closer to the pair, Draco attempted to look like he was casually perusing the books, and not eavesdropping on their conversation. It sounded like they were bickering about something, and he caught the next thing that Granger said.

"…Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register – and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous –"

Potter mumbled an interruption, and that gave Draco pause enough to notice Madam Pince approaching with an expression that was more unpleasant than usual, preparing to swoop in on the pair. He took that opportunity to duck around a bookshelf and make haste toward the library exit.

He hurried back to the dungeons with the overheard conversation repeating itself in his head. Not surprisingly, Pansy was waiting for him near the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, taking his arm. "There you are! I've been waiting for you since supper. Did you find anything helpful in the library?"

He glanced sideways at her. "Maybe. But I'd prefer finding somewhere slightly more private to discuss it."

Pansy smiled. "Of course. Perhaps we should take this to your room, then."

Draco nodded. "That will do."

"Let me just run to my room first," Pansy said, peering into his face critically. "You're not looking so well, and I've got some soothing eye cream that will do wonders for that twitch."

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Fine," and headed off to his dormitory to get settled.

A moment later, Pansy appeared, carrying a small jar. She unscrewed the lid and dipped a finger in. "Now hold still, Draco," she instructed as she smoothed a dab of the cream on the skin around each eye, applying an ample amount to the twitchy left eye. Within moments, the tic had stopped. Pansy smiled brightly. "There! Now isn't that better?"

"It is. Thanks, Pansy." Finally free of the awkward eye issues, he granted her a smile in return.

"You're welcome. You can hold on to this jar. I've got more at home, and I'm sure I can live without it for the next two days. You, on the other hand, may need it." She set the jar on the desk next to his bed. "What did you find in the library?"

"I'm not sure exactly," he responded, pulling a notepad out of his desk. "An idea." He began scribbling on the paper, writing down the key points of Granger and Potter's conversation. Thankfully, Pansy remained silent, patiently waiting for Draco to resume speaking. After a few moments, he obliged her. "Have you heard about the love potions that are being smuggled into school as other things?"

She nodded. "Of course I have. Lots of girls have ordered them. They come disguised as perfumes and such. What does that have to do with your task?" she questioned. Then she gasped knowingly. "You're going to try to make Dumbledore fall in love with you?"

Draco glared. "Don't be stupid. I'm talking about the fact that Filch and his Secrecy Sensors can be fooled!" He gestured at his notes. "See, bottled liquids are the weak link! If love potions can make it in successfully, what other potions can make it past Filch?"

Pansy's expression lit up in understanding. "Okay, I follow. So we sneak in some kind of poison, right? How does it get to Dumbledore once it's in the school?"

"That's what I'm not sure about yet," Draco responded.

"Well, it's not as if you can just tip it into his pumpkin juice at breakfast. It will need to be much sneakier than that," Pansy continued.

His eyes widened in realization. "No. It _won't_ need to be much sneakier than that. What was it you told me? The simplest solution is often the best? I just need to keep it simple, because then less can go wrong."

Pansy frowned. "How are you going to do it then? You're not seriously considering just adding it to his goblet at breakfast?"

Draco grinned. "What if I didn't have to? What if it were already in his goblet?"

"Fine. So how are you going to manage _that_?"

"Well…" Draco paused, thinking. "I still have Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius, don't I? Tell me, Pansy, what is Madam Rosmerta surrounded by?"

"Bottles of liquid," Pansy answered slowly.

"Exactly! Madam Rosmerta can poison a bottle of something, and then send it to the castle. She can send it straight to Dumbledore, even. Nobody would find a bottle of ale from the Three Broomsticks suspicious, and even if they did, there's the gap in security that would most likely let it through anyway!" he finished triumphantly.

Pansy was nodding in agreement. "Not bad, Draco. This could really work."

Draco was already fishing his enchanted coin from an inner pocket of his robes. He touched his wand to it, and a message sprang up on its surface in tiny, glowing letters: "Poison a bottle of drink, to be sent to Dumbledore. Use whatever means necessary." The words shimmered, and then faded away as the message was sent. He tucked the coin into the pocket of his trousers, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Sighing heavily, he said, "Now all I can do is wait, and hope that this plan turns out better than the last." He stood up and faced his reflection in the mirror above his desk. "I really look like shit, don't I?" he asked rhetorically. His eyes were sunken and rimmed in purple. His complexion was no longer the flawless alabaster trademarked by the Malfoy family. It looked dingy and paper-thin. Seeing himself in that state was almost worse than receiving a swift kick in the bollocks. He wanted to cry. "This has to work. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't."

Pansy's arms encircled his waist. "We'll just have to wait and see, Draco. As far as your appearance is concerned… Well, I still think you're sexy as fuck." Her hands began to creep down his waist. "Why don't I help relieve some of this stress of yours, how does that sound?" she murmured into his ear.

His eyes fluttered shut as her fingers worked their way under his waistband. Unfortunately, the inside of his eyelids bore the picture of Hermione Granger's face, lips parted enticingly. It was Thursday night. Why would he waste his time with Pansy when he could be balls deep inside of the girl he really wanted? "Fuck!" Draco growled, shoving Pansy away from him.

Without a backwards glance, Draco stormed out of the dormitory muttering, "I have to… prefect… Thursday…" leaving Pansy standing there, miffed, in his wake.


	15. Lily's Weapon

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 14 – Lily's Weapon**

Hermione checked her appearance in the mirror as she got ready to leave her dormitory. As an afterthought, she applied some lip gloss. She told herself that it was to protect against chapped lips, and not because she was going to meet Malfoy for "prefect duties." (Never mind the fact that the school was next to empty for Christmas break.) Taking one final glance in the mirror, she smoothed her hair and then turned to leave.

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet, as most of the school had departed early that morning. Originally, Hermione had planned on accompanying Ron and Harry to the Burrow for break, but given the current state of things, she had opted out of that. She'd have gone home, but her parents had won a second honeymoon from some radio contest, and they were enjoying a free trip to Morocco. So school it was.

It was quite a relief to be so alone at Hogwarts. She had grown used to carefully arranging her face into a scowl before meeting Malfoy, lest any on-looking classmates witness her and Malfoy appearing as if they enjoyed one another's company. With the nearly empty corridors, however, there was no need for such pretenses. In fact, to Hermione's immense surprise, Malfoy actually smiled when he caught sight of her descending the marble staircase to the corridor outside the Great Hall.

He was waiting in their usual meeting place, just to the left of the bottom of the staircase. "Been here long?" she asked as she paused halfway down the stairs.

Malfoy began climbing the stairs to meet her. "No, I've only just arrived," he reassured her. He paused on the step next to her, allowing for her to turn around and retrace her steps.

"So," Hermione began once they had reached the top of the stairs, "I must not be satisfying you anymore, huh?"

Malfoy stared at her, bewildered. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"Well, you were in such a hurry to be off with Filch last night that I can only imagine the most impure of things were about to happen between the two of you."

Coming to a dead stop, Malfoy turned to face her, looking repulsed nearly to the point of physical illness. He shuddered violently. "You are a vile, perverse creature, you know that, Granger?"

Her laughter echoed down the hallway. "So I've been told, Malfoy."

Regaining his composure, he retorted, "Perhaps you had such a faulty assessment of the situation because you were blinded by lust, rushing off to straddle McLaggen's face."

It was Hermione's turn to shudder. "I guess I deserved that. But, just for the record, I was running _away_ from McLaggen," she said as they started walking again.

"Away? But word in the corridor is that the two of you are an item?" Malfoy questioned, his voice thick with irony, and just a little bit of… jealousy?

Hermione scrutinized him out of the corner of her eye. "How do you even know about any of this anyway?"

"Pansy keeps me up to date on all of the gossip in the castle."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course she does."

"Are you avoiding the question?" Malfoy teased.

"Ugh! No, Cormac and I are not a couple! He was just my date for Slughorn's Christmas party," Hermione answered. "Why, are you jealous?"

Malfoy snorted. "Me? Jealous of a Gryffindor oaf who couldn't even beat out Weasley in Quidditch tryouts? Oh, yes. I'm immensely jealous."

"He _would_ have beat Ron if I hadn't…" Hermione trailed off.

"Hadn't what?" Malfoy asked. Then his eyes widened in comprehension. "You _helped_ Weasley win! That's what this is all about, isn't it? The Weasel!"

Hermione glared. "Of course not."

"Of course it is! You all but wipe his arse for him for years, without so much as a thank you from him. Now, not only is he not showing any gratitude to you, but all of his free time is spent lavishing over that stupid bint, Lavender Brown! Hell, Granger, I'd be mad too, if I were you," Malfoy finished.

She grunted in response. They walked together in silence for a moment. Then:

"Fuck Weasley. Are you really any worse off now that he's not around as much?"

Smiling a little, Hermione admitted, "I do have more free time now that I'm not doing his homework in addition to my own."

"And have you been enjoying that free time?" Malfoy's hand darted out, pinching her bum to emphasize the question.

She swatted his hand away. "Indeed I have. So, Malfoy, what _did_ Filch catch you doing last night? Poisoning first-years? Strangling puppies?"

Malfoy smirked. "Oh no, it was much worse than that, Granger. I was trying to crash Slughorn's party."

Hermione stared incredulously. "Seriously? Why would you even care about that?"

"A Malfoy never misses an important social event," he sniffed.

"Right, maintaining the reputation and all." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And also, Slughorn invited a vampire. There's a group of second year girls in Slytherin who _insist_ that vampires sparkle. I wanted to see if it was true." Malfoy looked slightly ashamed at that admission.

Not even attempting to conceal her mirth, Hermione doubled over in laughter. "You cannot be serious!" she managed between giggles. "Vampires don't sparkle! Haven't you ever read _anything_ published by the Watcher's Council? For heaven's sake, they're based out of England!" She caught her breath and continued. "They have the most comprehensive collection of information on vampires and other demons this side of the Atlantic, probably in the world." Looking up finally, she saw that Malfoy was scowling at her.

"No, I have not read anything from the Watcher's Council," he huffed.

Eyes lighting up, Hermione eagerly responded, "Oh, you ought to! There are fascinating accounts of vampires rampaging through this very region. They haven't been as much of a threat to the magical community as they have to Muggles, of course, but—" She stopped abruptly as Dennis Creevey rounded a corner down the corridor, heading straight for them.

"Hermione!" Dennis called. "Hermione, I've got a message for you. Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office immediately!"

Hermione exchanged a brief glance with Malfoy, and then said coolly, "Do excuse me, Malfoy. I trust you can finish rounds tonight on your own?"

Malfoy nodded, sneering at them both for good measure, and continued walking.

Catching up to Dennis, Hermione smiled. "Thank you for the message, Dennis. Was that all of it?"

Dennis nodded in the affirmative. "That was it."

"All right. You'd better head back to the common room, then. It's getting late."

Nodding again, he set off for the staircase that would take him to Gryffindor tower. Once Dennis was out of sight, Malfoy seized the moment by covering the distance he had put between himself and Hermione, to sandwich her between the wall and his body. "I'll be up in the Room of Requirement. Meet me there when you're done." He punctuated the statement with a fiery kiss that left Hermione breathless with desire for almost a full minute after Malfoy disappeared down the corridor.

She willed her heart rate to return to normal. Dumbledore had something important to talk to her about, she was sure, and she was not about to show up panting like a sex addict.

By the time she reached his office, she had herself in check. The gargoyle was already aside, and the staircase was clear for her to ascend. Hermione paused before she knocked on the door.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Please come in." Dumbledore's voice, though muffled slightly, filtered through the door.

_Really _didn't_ miss a trick, that man_, she thought wryly as she pushed the door open. Tentatively, she stepped in. Professor Dumbledore was seated at his desk, and he had apparently been reading, judging from the open book in front of him. His half-moon spectacles rested on one side of the desk, and he was massaging the bridge of his nose with his non-blackened hand.

He smiled as Hermione entered the office. "Take a seat, if you will," he said, gesturing to the upholstered armchair in front of his desk.

She obliged, and looked at the old man inquisitively. "You wanted to speak with me, Professor?"

"Yes," he began, resuming his eyeglasses. "I trust that Mr. Potter has shared with you that I've given him a special project this year?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir, he has."

Dumbledore cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, Miss Granger, I have a special project for you as well, if you should choose to accept it. However, it would require the utmost discretion on your part," he said significantly.

Hermione took a moment to let the professor's words sink in. "Are you telling me that if I were to take on this project, I would need to keep it a secret?"

Nodding, Dumbledore responded, "It would need to be a secret kept only by the two of us."

Solemnly, she met the professor's eyes with a steady gaze. "I understand, Professor. What is it that you need me to do?"

"Ah…" he paused, apparently searching for the right words. "It has come to my attention, Miss Granger, that you've recently made a rather unexpected acquaintance." Noticing the reddening of Hermione's face, he continued. "Not to worry, this is an observation that I alone have made. I assure you that I am the only one who has noticed that you've been spending time with such an unlikely young man."

"You're not going to tell anybody, are you, sir?" Hermione managed to choke out.

"Certainly not. In fact, as I have already mentioned, it is imperative that none of this comes to the attention of anyone else," the professor assured her.

Somewhat calmer, Hermione asked, "With all due respect, sir, what do my, ah, relationships have to do with this project of yours?"

A slight smile tugged at the professor's mouth. "Well, Miss Granger, it pertains to the project because of the unique position you are in. The power to save this young man's life may rest in your hands, and your hands alone."

Frowning, she started, "Just to be clear, sir, you are talking about—"

"It is unnecessary to speak his name, Miss Granger," he said, glancing around at the portraits cluttering the walls of the headmaster's office. "One can never be too careful, especially in such dark and desperate times. Do you know the young man of which I speak?"

"Yes, sir, I know who you are talking about. But what do you mean, his life rests in my hands? He doesn't trust me, and he has no reason to, for that matter," Hermione said plainly.

"Please do not underestimate your ability to bring out the good in people. You, too, play an important role in the fight against Lord Voldemort. Though it is true that an unfair portion of the responsibility falls on Mr. Potter, it would be unwise of you to diminish your own capabilities. As I said, you alone possess the unique ability to save a certain young man from an act that will destroy his soul."

Hermione considered everything that Professor Dumbledore had said. "I understand what you're saying, Professor, but I'm not quite sure that I understand how I'm supposed to save his life."

Again, Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "You will remember that Lily Potter's most powerful weapon against Voldemort was love. It was enough to save Harry's life. You have the same weapon in your own arsenal. Use it, Miss Granger."

"I'll do my best, Professor," she said finally.

"Excellent. Now I believe you have your prefect duties to finish this evening, Miss Granger?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Off you go, then," he said, dismissing her for the night.

Hermione had a lot to think about on her way up to the Room of Requirement.


	16. Solace

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 15**

Draco paced anxiously in the Room of Requirement. It had been two very long days since the last time he'd hooked up with Hermione Granger, and he needed to get his jollies off. After briefly tossing around the idea of fucking the first random girl he found wandering the castle, he'd dismissed it, realizing that there was no substitute for being with Granger. That realization would have been enough to completely fuck up his world, if he'd have allowed himself to truly acknowledge it. But his consciousness remained blissfully ignorant of any amiable feelings he had toward his enemy.

He waited nigh on an hour before she showed up, and when she did, she had the strangest expression on her face. If he'd been paying attention, he would make another realization: that Granger was looking at him as if for the first time. If he'd allowed himself, he would have been startled by the intensity of her gaze.

But, as luck would have it, none of these thoughts marched their way through his head. When Granger catapulted into the room, the only coherent thoughts in Draco's mind involved the numerous ways in which he wanted to penetrate her. Granger beneath him, bent over in front of him, on her side with one leg up in the air, riding him as he rode his brand-new Firebolt 2… There was no doubt about it: her smoldering eyes were enough to set him ablaze. He wasted no time in scooping her up and depositing her on the bed in one swift motion.

Without speaking, they began unbuttoning each other's shirt. After disrobing one another completely, Granger gaze flickered toward the toy table in a silent, lustful question. Draco shook his head in response. Staring into her desire-filled eyes, he relished in the moment. Taking his time, he descended upon her, devouring her completely with his mouth. They were starving, desperate, and greedy for one another. Knotting his hands in her hair, he caressed her curves with his tongue, making her back arch with pleasure. She let her fingernails trail delicately down his back in gratitude, raising goose bumps all over his body.

Draco's mouth found its way to hers, bringing their cores together. The warmth and wetness he felt beneath him made his cock twitch, but he held off. Granger gasped as his shaft slid against her, massaging her clit. Her hands clamped down on his backside, guiding him into her. Involuntarily, her muscles squeezed tight around him as he entered, forcing a primal groan out of his throat. Grasping her hips, he rolled onto his back, allowing Granger to take control.

She rested her hands on his shoulders for support, gripping his sides with her knees. His hands never left her hips, rocking her back and forth on top of him. Her hair was wilder than he'd ever seen it, and hung down around her face like a curtain, tickling his chest with every back thrust. He admired her breasts as they bounced in his face. She was sensual, feminine, and curvy in all the right places. Her pink lips pouted at him as she rode, and her eyes were heavy-lidded with lust.

He pushed into her deeper, making her breath quicken. It was clear from the expression on her face that she was nearing the end, and it was enough to send him hurtling off towards ecstasy himself. As he exploded inside her, she gave a primal cry of joy, signaling her own release. They rode out the orgasm together, slowly coming to a stop.

Draco reached up, encircling her with his arms, and pulled her down against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, deeply inhaling her scent. He felt so relaxed, so at peace, and so comfortable. There was nothing about that moment in time that he would change, not even for the world. Pulling the comforter up to their waists, he rolled them onto their sides, snuggling into the bed. He kissed her one last time before falling into a deep, luxurious slumber.

XXXX

The next morning, Draco awoke before Granger did. She was still curled into his chest, breathing shallowly in her sleep. She was beautiful. He shook his head slightly in disbelief as he realized the feelings he was having toward her. He liked being around her. She was attractive and clever, and kept him on his toes. She was amazing in bed, and the previous night only served to prove that point.

It was sex like he'd never experienced before. Sure, he'd had sex with Granger before. He'd had sex with other girls before. But nothing had been like that. There hadn't been any need for words, because their bodies had done all of the communicating. They had communicated so well that they both finished simultaneously. She was using some Muggle contraceptive, which was a relief, because after he shot his seed into her, he'd had a rather disturbingly endearing mental image of her belly round with his child.

Shocking. In a span of only a few short months, he'd gone from wanting to dismember her, to wanting to impregnate her. He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. Did he care for her? As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he couldn't any longer. He felt something for her other than hate. He wasn't sure when the transition happened, but it had been made.

Christmas was in only a few short days. The Malfoy family went all out for Christmas. He would give her a gift worthy of a Malfoy woman, even if he couldn't make a public production out of it. Especially if he couldn't make a public production out of it. She deserved to be made his queen, and if politics wouldn't allow it, then she would at least be the most spoiled Muggleborn secret lover a rich pureblood had ever had.

Granger stirred. Draco brushed her hair out of her face just in time for her eyes to flutter open. A lazy smile stretched across her face as she gazed up at him. "Good morning," she uttered softly.

The movement of her soft lips was enough to send his body into a frenzy. "I'll show you a good morning," he drawled as began raining kisses down onto her.

She giggled and tried to squirm away, but he caught her shoulders and held her steady so he could begin his ministrations all over again.

He would have to give her a Christmas gift that equaled her in her beauty. But he would figure that out later. He was blissfully busy at the moment.

They spent all day together in the Room of Requirement. It was the best day Draco had had in a long time. He was well-rested, and his body was pleasantly sore and flooded with endorphins. Granger's sunny smile had erased any thoughts of the Dark Lord, and Draco actually found himself whistling a jaunty tune on his way back to the Slytherin dungeons that evening.

Thankfully, the common room was empty of almost the entire house, including Pansy, due to the holiday break. Other than three younger students playing a game of wizard's chess in a corner, he had the room to himself. Ignoring them, he took a seat in an armchair in front of the fireplace. Relaxing into the chair, he let his mind begin to drift.

It was Sunday night. Christmas day was the following Wednesday. What could he give Granger? If there was one thing Lucius Malfoy ever did right in his life, it was giving his wife the most spectacular gifts anyone could ever imagine. Some of the most notable presents included a large marble statue of Hercules, sculpted by a young Michelangelo, a sizable villa in southern Italy, and a necklace containing a 71.7 carat diamond formerly known as the Akbar Shah.

A statue or a villa wouldn't be very practical in his situation, but perhaps Draco could find a suitable piece of jewelry to give Granger. With that thought in mind, he wrote a quick note expressing his desire to obtain a truly unique gem in time for Christmas. Satisfied, he took the note up to the Owlrey straight away, to send it off to his family's jeweler.


	17. On the Same Page

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 16**

Hermione awoke early on Wednesday morning. It was Christmas day. She was pleased to see that the pastries she'd left for the house elves were gone. Although she'd abandoned her attempts to trick them into freeing themselves, she still thought that it was a nice gesture to leave them something in return for delivering her Christmas presents. Plus it reminded her of leaving cookies for Santa Claus as a child, and it was a tradition that she was reluctant to let go of.

Heaving herself out of bed, she first went to the window to push aside the heavy draperies. The sky was unleashing appropriately thick, fluffy snowflakes. She smiled in appreciation. It was exactly what Christmas morning should look like.

Turning her attention back inside her empty dormitory, she observed a small stack of wrapped gifts at the foot of her bed. Hermione opened them all slowly, as to fully appreciate each one. Harry and Ron had given her a beautiful snow globe featuring a scene of Muggle London. She suspected that the present had been more Harry's doing than Ron's, but didn't dwell on it long. There was also a set of matching mittens, scarf, and hat from Mrs. Weasley. Ginny gave her a lovely purse-sized mirror that was charmed to "zoom out" to allow her to see her entire body. Her parents sent a card from Morocco, with an itinerary for a trip to Australia following the end of her sixth year. At that, Hermione smiled. She missed her parents, and it would be nice to spend some quality time with them.

The last present was from Malfoy. It was by far the most unexpected. Wrapped in glossy silver paper was a book titled _Cursed: The Tale of the Tavernier Blue_. Curiously, she flipped the book open. It was a history of the Hope Diamond. Settling back into her pillow, she began skimming through it, simultaneously engrossed in its fascinating story and also wondering why Malfoy had chosen to give her such a random present. _Not that I was even expecting a Christmas present from him, but it's a pleasant surprise that he thought of me. Even if it's a strange choice._

_Appropriate though_, she mused. Hermione had hesitantly sent off to Flourish and Blotts for _The Secret Life of Salazar Slytherin_ to give to Malfoy, and she wasn't sure how it would be received. But if he had gotten her a book for Christmas, then they were clearly on the same page as one another. _'Same page.' Hah!_ She silently congratulated herself on the unintentional joke.

After spending an hour or so in bed, thumbing through her new book, a rumble in Hermione's stomach reminded her that she had yet to eat breakfast. Finally giving in, she showered and got ready for the day, dressing in a warm but flattering jumper, denim jeans, and wool-lined boots that went almost up to her knees. She grabbed a heavy cloak and her new winter accessories from Mrs. Weasley too, since the card on Malfoy's gift had requested that she join him for a walk out on the grounds.

When she arrived in the nearly vacant Great Hall, she took a spot at the Gryffindor table by herself. She was skimming through the Daily Prophet when she felt someone's eyes burning a proverbial hole through her. Glancing up, she acknowledged Malfoy with a brief, bored appraisal for the benefit of any onlookers. He stood, donned his heavy cloak, and winked at her before slowly making his way out of the Great Hall.

Hermione stuffed the last of her toast into her mouth and washed it down with pumpkin juice. Then she casually left the Great Hall, cloak draped over one arm. Malfoy was waiting for her in the entrance hall. When she came into view, he turned and walked very deliberately out the front door. Pulling on her cloak, followed by her hat, scarf, and mittens, she exited the castle as well, after ascertaining that nobody was around to see her following Malfoy.

Once they were far enough from the castle to not be recognized by anyone peering out a window, Malfoy slowed, allowing Hermione to catch up. "Happy Christmas, Granger," he said in greeting as she fell into step beside him.

Grinning, she responded, "Happy Christmas, Malfoy. So, where are we headed?"

"Patience, love. You'll see," came his vague response.

She rolled her eyes. They walked in silence for about fifteen minutes. Hermione felt as if she had been transported inside her new snow globe, minus the scene of London. Giant snowflakes relentlessly swirled in the air around them, and when she looked back over her shoulder, Hogwarts was a mere castle-shaped shadow behind the veil of snow.

Again absorbed with thoughts of Malfoy's strange Christmas gift, she didn't notice when he stopped and only narrowly avoided slamming into him. He spread his arms wide, indicating that she should look around. "What do you think?"

They were standing next to the Black Lake, under an outcropping of rocks that provided shelter from the snow. The view of the lake was breathtaking; the nearest parts were frozen over and covered in snow, while farther out, where it was deeper, the water glittered with the faintest ripples.

"It's beautiful," she said honestly.

Malfoy pulled a wool scarf out of his pocket, charmed it to make it the size of a blanket, and then spread it out on the ground so that they could sit down. He turned to look at Hermione. "I brought you here so I could give you your Christmas present."

She was baffled. "But I thought you gave me that book?"

He looked smug. "I did, but it was only to quench the insatiable thirst for knowledge I knew you'd have after opening your real gift." He reached into his robes, extricated a small box wrapped in familiar silver paper, and handed it to her.

She took it hesitantly, wondering what it could possibly be. Malfoy nodded her on encouragingly. Shrugging, she pulled the wrapping paper off, revealing a black velvet jewelry case. Her heart began pounding. _A jewelry case? He didn't… He wouldn't have… Oh, bloody hell._

With trembling fingers, she opened it. Nestled against the satin lining was the most intricately designed, regal pair of earrings she'd ever seen outside of the British Crown Jewels. They looked _expensive_. A perfect white diamond sparkled at the top of each earring, where it fastened to the ear. Dangling down from that was a setting about the size of her thumbnail. Tiny white diamonds encircled a luminescent blue gem that was at least a carat in size. Suddenly, pictures from the book she'd been reading that morning flashed through her head. _A blue gem_—

Hermione gasped, looking up at Malfoy. He was staring at her expectantly, the faintest hint of a smile poised at the corners of his mouth. Her eyes flickered between the earrings and Malfoy's face at least three more times before she uttered, "Are these… Is this why you gave me that book?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took the earrings out of the case and gently fastened them to her earlobes. He cleared his throat. "They look lovely on you."

She was still gaping at him.

Finally, Malfoy explained, "Yes, that's why I gave you the book. They're the sister stones to the Hope Diamond. They were cut from the Tavernier Blue, when it was faceted into the Blue Diamond of the Crown, or as it is more commonly referred to, the French Blue." Hermione was still silent, so he continued. "The French Blue itself was worn by the king, but rumor has it that Marie Antoinette was the one who had the stones set into those earrings," he said, gesturing at her ears.

Realizing that her initial comparison to the British Crown Jewels wasn't so far off, she stood abruptly, causing the jewelry case to tumble out of her lap. The earrings were beautiful. No, strike that. They were inconceivably and spectacularly exquisite. She had never received a gift like them before, and she probably never would in the future, either. But she still had the overwhelming urge to tell Malfoy that she couldn't accept them. It was just too much.

She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the look on his face stopped her. The hopeful, almost childlike expression melted her heart just a little bit. It was evident to her that he'd really wanted to give her a gift that would please her. And, remembering Dumbledore's insistence that her love could save Malfoy, she sank back down onto the blanket and said, "Thank you, Draco."

Shock washed over his features at her use of his first name, but it disappeared as Hermione took his chin in her hand and kissed him softly.


	18. Bugger This

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun._

**Chapter 17**

_Fucked._ That was Draco. He was completely fucked. The term had resumed a week ago, and Dumbledore was no closer to being dead than was the Dark Lord. And as long as both powerful wizards existed, Draco was fucked. The only way for Draco to make it out of the year alive was for him to complete his task in killing the headmaster, or for someone to take out the Dark Lord, thus eliminating the problem altogether. As much as he hated the tosser, Draco found himself hoping that Potter _was_ the bloody "Chosen One." Silently and secretly, Draco Malfoy was rooting for Harry Potter in the fight against the Dark Lord. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, of course.

He dropped his fork in frustration. He had no appetite to speak of. Running a hand through his hair and drawing in a ragged breath, he looked around to find Granger across the Great Hall. Her face was lit up in mirth as she laughed in response to something the Weasley girl was telling her. She was slightly flushed, and her eyes sparkled in a way that wasn't unlike the way she had looked riding him the night before in the Room of Requirement. A brief smirk graced Draco's features at that memory.

Tearing his gaze away from Granger, his glanced up to the teacher's table. Snape was watching him, his glittering black eyes impassive as they observed Draco's reaction to Granger. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, Draco realized that Dumbledore was staring at him as well.

"Bugger this," Draco muttered as he rose swiftly.

Crabbe and Goyle looked at him in obvious confusion. Not that it took much to baffle the two of them. Rolling his eyes at the beefy duo, he turned and hurried out of the Great Hall.

Not having anywhere in particular to be, he headed down to the potions lab, knowing that it would be at least a half hour before his classmates arrived. He dropped into a seat and leaned back, fully intent upon enjoying his solitude. Draco was in the process of kicking his feet up onto the table in front of him in order to appropriately appreciate said solitude when he heard the unmistakable sound of the classroom door creaking as somebody entered the room. Scowling, he turned his head to snap at whoever had seen fit to encroach upon his relaxation.

"Piss off. Find somewhere else to…" His words died in his throat as he found himself being surreptitiously evaluated by the only person whose company he didn't mind.

Granger strolled past him casually as she pulled off her robes and draped them over the back of a chair. She loosened her tie and flicked open the top few button of her shirt, then glanced at Draco significantly before turning and meandering into the storeroom.

_That little minx!_ Draco didn't hesitate in rising to his feet and, after shedding his own robes, following her into the little room. He slammed the door shut after him, warded it, and turned to face Granger. His cock hardened immediately at the sight that met his eyes. She was bent over, facing away from him, and in the process of sliding her knickers down her thighs.

Draco growled and, allowing his newly charged lust to take control, flipped up her skirt and grabbed her by the hips before her panties made it past her knees. She gasped and fell forward a little, grasping the edge of a shelf to steady herself.

He ran his hands up and down Granger's hips for a long moment, relishing in the softness of her skin. His left hand continued to ghost across the exposed flesh while his right hand found its way to her lower abdomen. It didn't take long at all for Granger to begin wiggling in his arms, begging for his touch in other places.

"Malfoy, please, touch me," she whispered hoarsely.

Smirking, he replied, "I am touching you."

"You know what I meant!" she shot back, irritated.

"I don't think I do," he stated in mock confusion. "Maybe you should be more specific."

Granger angled her hips, trying to force his hand lower. Draco refused to comply. He wanted to hear her vocalize her want.

Finally she sighed in defeat. "So it's dirty talk you're after?"

"Mmhmm," he agreed lazily as he took his hand off her arse to release his straining erection from his trousers.

"It's not enough that you've got me bent over in the potions storeroom, arousal trickling down my thigh? You want to hear me beg you to slip a finger into my wet cunt and ease some of the ache there? You want me to beg to ride your beautiful hard cock until I'm screaming for release? Is that what you want?" She was practically moaning by the end of her little speech.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he dipped his hand lower, his fingers sliding in the wetness of her sex. She gasped in response and her arse ground back against Draco's crotch, eliciting a groan from his lips.

"Do you like that, little witch?" he asked as he increased his speed with his fingers.

"Yes! Oh, fuck! Yes, I like it, you prat! I need you inside me right now!" she demanded.

Not wanting to skimp on the foreplay, but painfully aware of the fact that class would be starting all too soon, he angled his cock at her opening and thrust into her. He pulled out slowly and slammed back into her, filling her completely. When neither of them could take it anymore, his pace intensified, his fingers never leaving their place on her clit.

Moments later, she was convulsing against him, yelling, "Fuck, Malfoy! Harder… I'm coming!" As was apt to happen, her orgasm triggered his own, and as his seed shot into her, his thrusts slowed, coming to a complete halt as the last wave crashed over him.

Draco sagged into her, feeling exhausted in the best of ways, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. Nestling his cheek into her neck, he murmured, "That was amazing."

Granger was still holding onto the shelf, supporting both their weight. She chuckled. "Yes, well you looked like you could use a little cheering up."

Groaning, he responded, "Was it that obvious?" He straightened but kept his hold on her.

She turned in his embrace and rose up onto her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "Only to me, I'm sure. Nobody else can detect the nuances between your different scowls," she joked. She disentangled herself from his arms. "Now let's get out of here before anyone shows up for class."

Draco watched admiringly as she performed a quick cleansing spell and pulled her knickers back up. He followed suit, but hung back as she crept out of the storeroom, in case anyone had already arrived in the potions room.

Granger was right. Draco was immensely cheered after the encounter. He had been feeling hopeless and alone, reflecting on his impossible task from the Dark Lord. But knowing that Granger not only noticed his melancholy, but cared enough to do something about it… It meant the world to him.

No doubt about it, that little witch was getting under his skin. And he liked it.


End file.
